Hachin
by Eduard Kassel
Summary: A dramatic turn of events in the Pass alters the course of destiny. The surviving Huns return to their homeland to fight another day, taking with them the one who stole their victory. Now Mulan faces life as a captive the Huns. AU Worldbuilding; No Lemon. Cover Art by: Racheakt
1. Divergence of Destiny

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Mulan, Disney does; I think. Either way it is not mine, I am just having some fun with it for no money. _

**Story Notes:** Welcome to 'Hachin' my most unexpected story to date. Those who follow my other stories may well be frustrated by me putting yet another fic out when I have yet to finish other lengthy projects. I had in fact intended to wait until one of my current stories was done before starting anything new. And my version f Master Cyclonis is likely to blast me for yet again pushing her debut back. *sigh*

Anyway, you have Jazzqueen to thank for this idea. This faithful journey started at work where during a break villains from movies we watched as lads came up. Shanyu was raised up as on of better scary Disney villains and it prompted me to watch the movie for the first time in years. naturally i went to to see what was there for Mulan.

I found the story "Mulan of the Ger" which share the opening concept of this story. Pleased at the idea and noticing some simple errors hampering that potential I offered some assistance to Jazzqueen. But don't try to find "Mulan of the Ger," it has been taken down by the author who lost the enthusiasm for the idea and instead offered the concept to me.

Having this baby handed to me was unexpected, but she is so cute I just can't leave her to gather dust on a shelf. Forgive me Cyclonis, just think how much your story will be improved by the time on the drawing board! *zapped*

Additionally Queen of All Oni is moving again, Zim's absence threw a wrench into the process, I am sadly quite dependent on feedback in my writing process. Regardless its coming along, again.

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**Hachin**

The Tung Shao Pass was a busy trade route but the coming of winter and war had left it as mature had shaped, cold and forbidding. The snow though was broken by spears and, morbidly, the occasional frozen hand. A testament to one nations disaster and another's saving grace.

The sole warmth left in this place so recently filled with the heat of war was presided over by the unlikely crafter of this momentous event. Over a meager fire, fueled primarily by arrows, Fa Mulan sat wrapped in a blanket watching the flames dance. Though she felt alone she was not without company. Her not so lucky blue cricket, Cri-kee warmed himself by snuggling into an edge of her blanket while she leaned back against her black stallion Khan.

Her most unusual companion sat before using yet another broken arrow to cook a dumpling on the flames. Mushu, would be holder of several titles, a little red dragon with tiny blue elk horns and an ego the size of the empire. Not the most impressive Guardian when he was smaller than a weasel and it turned out he wasn't even that.

The little dragon with his big talk, and often as not bad advice, had lied to her from the start. By his own admission no one had sent him, her ancestors even viewed him in disdain. Apparently he had a role in the infamous 'Folly of Fa Deng' The only reason he had helped was to atone for his failure to summon the true guardian and to try and regain his lost position as a Guardian.

Still, rather than being angry, as she knew she should, watching his tail twitch in discomfort she felt closer to the small dragon. He talked big because he knew no one else would praise him. Maybe he had risked her life to help himself, but she understood wanting to prove something so badly you would lie and keep lying just or a chance to get it.

The fire guttered as the wind picked up and Mushu turned to offer her the dumpling. She took it, the normally too hot bread a comfort in her hand. But the bite told her she had no stomach at the moment. So she offered it to Khan, the sole honest member of their company. He licked it from her hand and she patted his head.

"Ahh, don't worry about a thing baby girl, once we get back home we can hope that you don't get disowned by your father and the ancestors don' nail me to a tree," the red dragon tried to assure her. Mulan just sighed as the dragon tended to the pathetic little fire made from broken arrows. Hun arrows Mulan noted, she had seen enough of the army's arrows to recognize them. Like Mushu's words the little fire did little to comfort her, but the gesture was appreciated.

"I don't know I've gone off to war, cross dressed as a man, and was caught in the act. I don't know if I ever can look upon my father's face and see anything but disappointment," Mulan sighed hanging her head.

It had been a mad gamble, and honestly as much about her own life as her father's. And despite it having gone wrong could she honestly say she regretted it? As Ping she had faced challenges, but unlike Mulan's challenges Ping had overcome them. Ping had earned the friendship of Yoa, Ling, and Chien-Po after the grudges that had sprung up on the first day of training. The joy of Captain Shang giving his trust, when he had been so disgusted with her weakness at the start. As much as she loved her family, blood bound them.

What she had gained in the army she had earned. Ping had been the runt of the litter, the one who got them all in trouble the first day. But she had gained their recognition, they had included her in their talks of home, and their dreams for after the war. She would never forget how they passed the marching with talk of women, even that son of an unnamed goat, Chifu, adding his piece. Shang, the proudest, strongest man she had encountered, he had twice accepted her support in moments when he could not help but be human.

The Captain had longed to please his father; she recognized the despair he had felt after Chifu had threatened to deny him that. And her heart had clenched when Chien Po brought the General's helm, knowing without the gentle giant speaking the words. She had feared losing her father, and now Shang faced the nightmare she had risked so much to avoid. Yet he had rallied them from the despair of the charnel house that had once been a village like so many of them had come from. And even facing certain death he had encouraged them to face it with honor.

And for a moment her dreams had been surpassed. The Captain openly praised her as her comrades, the men who had once looked on her with so much contempt, cheered her.

And now it was all over like the Huns now dead beneath the snows. Shan-Yu from beyond death had taken her moment from her. Her wound exposed her secret and turned everything since she walked into that camp, strutting like an idiot, to ash. Her friends had tried to help her, but in the face of the law Chifu had embodied in that moment they stopped. Had they been angry about being tricked, she wondered? What would she have felt to find someone she trusted had kept such a secret? Shang had spared her life though, defying Chifu for the first time.

The regiment would parade through the Imperial City, Shang would be a hero and possibly become successor to his father, and the boys would either return home or stay on. They would all be celebrated for the honor they had brought to their families. But not Fa Ping, much less Mulan, one was left behind in disgrace in the snow while the other died here with Shan Yu.

At the very least unlike the invaders she could depart from this miserable place.

8 8 8

The wind and fire filled Mulan's ears; else she might have heard a man bellow in rage. The mighty Shan-Yu had dug his way from the frozen grave, but wolf like eyes had shown him his mighty army had not been so face was fierce, but not feral all attention seized by a pair of wolflike eyes which betrayed a predators rage that filled him at his perfect plans and victory so swiftly destroyed was given voice.

As if his cry held some power, what survivors there were gathered to him. Some ascended from wherever they had dug themselves out like he had, while others burst from whatever shelter fate had provided. The summoned survivors stood under the foreboding presence of their wolf eyed leader as he tried to press his rage onto a useful path.

At last his faithful Suren alighted on his arm, the hawk providing a measure of calm as the great war leader assessed his forces. So few, but the ancestors had granted him the best of what he had brought. A plan began to form before Ulaan the archer pointed behind him. Turning Shan-Yu raised an eyebrow, a thin but clear plume of smoke. They were not alone.

8 8 8

The Huns were not merely warriors like the Han soldiers, they were hunters and every hunter knows the best hunt is one where your prey dies before it realizes it has become your prey. But just now he desired information before death. The others hung back; their leader was in darker spirits than usual, if there was killing to be done he would be the one to do it.

Mushu had climbed up her blanket to assure Mulan and thus was looking over her shoulder, seeing Shan-Yu advancing on them like a tiger other Huns following like a wolf pack.

"Mulan they're alive!" Mushu screamed diving off as she surged to her feet. Too fast, she clutched her wound going back to her knees as Khan rose eyes flaring to face the threat.

"The horse," Shan-Yu commanded. The twins, Batu and Gaitan, seized the animal with the expert ease of their fathers, Shan-Yu himself advanced without break to seize the Han by the throat lifting him off the ground. His eyes widened as if another avalanche was upon him.

"You," He whispered, disbelief at this turn of events. The soldier who destroyed his conquest was now here in his hands.

"You stole my victory!" he roared raising his enemy higher still offering this life to Sun and Moon in thanks for delivering it into his hands. But the wind picked up again in that moment and ripped the blanket cloaking the soldiers shape.

Though it was only for a moment the warriors gathered that day would never forget seeing the unflappable warriors jaw drop. Regaining his composure he scowled and tossed her over her fire.

'Know that no man has the power to stop you from taking the old mans empire for your spoils,' the old shamans words echoed in Hun rulers memory. Thinking on this turn of

events his sharp ears caught steel being drawn.

"Shall we make her suffer then?" Shirchin asked beneath his helm.

"Some fun first I think, my spirits need lifting I know," Lasuluun stated, hands drifting to his belt.

Ulaan simply looked to him along with the twins, awaiting his will on this turn of events. Shan-Yu frowned at the Han girl coughing on the other side of the fire and then to the distant but oh so close Han capital. He wavered but a moment before deciding.

"The campaign is lost. We're returning, Gaitan bring the woman, intact if you can," Shan-Yu ordered. He noticed a Han blade laying on the snow, the girls no doubt. He heard her cry out as he unsheathed the steel, one question answered. Clearly no peasants blade, old and well kept, a family blade.

His own sword was lost beneath the snows, a plundered sword would do for now, he placed it in his belt. The burly Hun bound Mulan's hands and pushed her along as they began to march north through the pass, Mushu carried along as one enterprising Hun snatched up the sack to search when they stopped.

Shanyu did not bother to look back as he silently made his vow. He would return.

8 8 8

The Imperial Throne room was vast and ornate in red and gold, the dragon symbol of the imperial personage holding prominence over the throne the room was designed to draw all attention too. Which was perhaps fitting since to many the imperial throne was the very center of the world.

The old man seated upon that throne looked as one worthy to sit it. His hair had long since become snow white, his head near bare of hair while a well shaped beard fell to his chest. He was thin, likely never a warrior with the frame beneath his fine robes of gold and black. Yet the eyes set in his wrinkled face shown with great wisdom, narrowed at the moment as he conceded the momentous news.

The sounds of revelry penetrated even here, both the masses in the square and the closer banquets of the court. But his attention now was reserved to two men alone. The rodent like counselor in blue, who stood to the Emperor's left, and the young officer kneeling on the red carpet before the upraised throne.

"Captain Shang, you and Chifu tell an interesting tale, or could it be tales?" the sagacious emperor commented. Chifu was a bit unnerved at the words, Shang would normally have been, but the events leading to this day had left him drained. The young man felt old beyond his years and wished for little more than space and time to properly mourn and sort out his feelings on the revelations thrust on him. But duty did not allow for such personal matters to take precedence.

The emperor recalled how the father had knelt on that same spot at the beginning of this war, and now the son held that place telling him how it had ended. One could believe that all beneath heavens moved as a circle, he mused.

"The only matter you two seem to speak as one on is your mercy Captain," The Emperor continued. Chifu drew himself up at those words, and prepared to deliver a condemnation fit for an execution, only to be cut off by his sovereign.

"You acted well in this matter. While Chifu's intentions were lawful, if the law is not tempered by wisdom it swiftly becomes an empty tyranny.

"I think it would be best for us to bury the matter of Fa Mulan, the credit for this victory shall go to you personally Captain Shang and extend to the men who serve under you. This Mulan will receive neither glory nor condemnation," the Emperor announced. This stunned both the soldier and the courtier.

"But Sire!" they spoke up at the same time. Stopping they shared a glare before Chifu continued.

"This woman violates sacred law, her crimes only compounded-" Chifu protested,

"I know the laws, and I know she has saved our Empire from much bloodshed, and lifted the shadow to the north for the time being. I will not call down the displeasure of the Heavens by persecuting her for these acts," The Emperor cut him off. His attention shifted to the Captain granting him a silent permission to speak.

"Your majesty, my only accomplishment was not dying. I do not deserve the honor you would bestow," Li Shang protested politely. He did not say what his conscience was telling him, that someone deserved that honor more.

"True, you do not, but you will receive it regardless. Though the capital was spared, this invasion has left a trail of destruction to the north and cut the head from our army and its mightiest arm. The days ahead will see many probing, searching for weakness in the dynasty. The rebellions of old could flare anew with your fathers legend ended, and other barbarians may seek less ambitious raids.

"China requires a hero to show the Middle Kingdom stands strong and proud in victory, not trembling with weakness. You are that hero, the avenging son of a hero who brought me the sword of your father's killer.

"I did not-"

"The truth is not what is needed. While perhaps deserving a hero's praise, Fa Mulan would only divide our people between the wise and the foolish. Many would see a weak dynasty that needs a woman's protection, and my people would suffer anew.

"Your honor is a virtue, but to serve the greater good we must often do what is best rather than what we feel is right. You shall join the ranks of the storied heroes, and Fa Mulan will be left to live and pass on in peace and obscurity.

"But some reward is in order I concede, Chifu have a chest of silver prepared. A note from myself and the chest will be delivered to the Fa family, let prosperity if not honor be given to the family which has served China so well," The Emperor decreed. Chifu looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, but still wrote down the necessary words. He wondered what explanation would be offered for the whore's family receiving such gifts.

Li Shang breathed a sigh of relief, Mulan was a liar, but she deserved more than just mercy. If nothing else these gifts should allow her to regain a place in her family. A thought came to him, and he acted with the impulsiveness his father had often warned him of.

"Majesty, I would like to be the one to deliver your tokens to the Fa family," Shang spoke up. The Emperor raised an eyebrow to the request while Chifu watched the younger man with suspicion.

"It would hardly be fitting for the young hero to vanish in his moment of glory," The Emperor noted. Shang winced at the title, since he was a boy marveling at tales of his fathers deeds he had aspired to be counted as such a hero. But he could take no pride in this deception his majesty was weaving. Though Mulan had also deceived them, and some thought war a simple business.

"Fa Ping was close to several of my best men, they would appreciate a chance to part on civil terms, it would improve their morale," Shang offered. It was true, just not the entire truth.

"Then let those fools run off to the provinces, the Emperor has need for you here," Chifu countered. Which sadly was also true Captain Li would have to concede. The emperor stroked his beard considering the young man before him.

"A man may tend a grand and immaculate garden his whole life, only to be most moved by the flower of the field others would discard as a weed," the Emperor stated. The officer and the courtier exchanged a look, sharing confusion and realization at the words.

"Majesty I-" Shang tried to object. He was divided on this matter; half of him wanted to hate Mulan for deceiving him and violating the martial laws he had been raised to uphold. The other, was fixated on Fa Ping, the first person he had been able to think of as a friend. If he was seeking anything it was an end to this division, not romance, or so he told himself.

Chifu huffed shifting his writing board; his thoughts were more angry and vindictive than usual.

"Carry out this task and find whatever answer you need to put this matter behind you young colonel. Your absence will be credited with space for grieving, but do not tarry," The elderly ruler declared. Even as he indulged his vassal he reminded him of whose will was paramount in this an all other matters. Li Shang bowed acknowledging his task and that fact.

The Emperor dismissed him shortly to seek rest for the flurry the morning would bring. Making his way through the ornate halls avoiding the celebrations he started to regret his impulsiveness. Mulan was something none of his lessons had prepared him for; perhaps he should have left it with a bloodless sword in the snow?

Well there was no turning back now, though facing the Hun army again might be less daunting.

* * *

**1).** _The Huns will usually refer to the Chinese as the Han, associating the people under the Empire with the ruling dynasty._

**AN:** _So Mulan is in the hands of enemies while Shang and company head off in the wrong direction. Love it hate it, want to strangle me for not updating the stories you actually like? Feel free to tell me how you feel, meanwhile I'm back to work on Queen._


	2. Trek

Disclaimer: I do not own Mulan, this story is nonprofit written for the enjoyment of the audience and myself. No money, so please no sue.

Betaed by Zim'smostloyalservant & Jazzqueen

**WARNING!:**_ Chapter contents are believed by the author to warrant an upgrade in rating to M. It is not overly graphic in the author's opinion but the subject matter warrants both the upgrade and this head's up. Do not wish to spoil so either click back or proceed and hopefully enjoy the story._

**Trek**

The fire stank of dung and gave little smoke – a good trick, Mulan had to admit as she hoped the wind would shift so she wouldn't have to smell it. The Huns were camped in the hills, the snows of the heights mercifully behind them. They had gathered around their fire, having set up camp; she sat just outside their circle, her feet now tied and the leash of her rope bindings held by the bald twin as his brother tried to relax.

Mushu's head popped out of a pile of leaves surveying the situation. He spied Cri- Kee where he was supposed to be, on Mulan's shoulder, giving her some comfort. The Huns had noted his presence but didn't seem to take issue with the insect.

The dragon ducked back into the leaves as he felt a piercing gaze come his way. That hawk was out there somewhere, and it was keeping an eye on him. He hadn't been able to take care of it; there was something supernatural about the bird. Some kind of Hun magic?

Grumbling, Mushu crawled out of the leaf pile into the bushes; for now, he would have to bide his time.

As for the Huns, they conversed in their own tongue, ignoring her for the moment.

"I agree, horses should wait, they think us dead – better they keep believing it until we're too far for it to matter," Lasuluun spoke up. Shirchin crossed his arms but stayed silent. It was shameful for Hun warriors to march like this, but he could not argue the wisdom of stealth. As it was, they had only the one willful horse, and their leader rightfully had claimed it.

Of course there would be no need for stealth, or retreat… his thoughts darkened as his eyes peered around Batu. Lasuluun glanced over, following the gaze, and scowled.

"We should kill her now; our comrades were denied a proper death. Give them peace by defiling and spilling the witch's blood," Lasuluun spoke to the silent shadow of their leader, as Shan-Yu tore off a bite of horse jerky. The wolf eyes seemed to glow and casually regarded the grim faced Hun.

Gaitan frowned and sat up, giving a look, but his brother's hand on his shoulder stopped him from speaking.

"Witch?" Ulaan spoke up instead. The archer was fashioning a new arrow with his belt knife but looked up from his work at the word.

"How else could our conquest be foiled?" Lasuluun countered.

"With a cannon, and a great deal of snow," Ulaan answered plainly. He looked to be smirking in the firelight. Lasuluun came to his feet, only to pause as Shan-Yu gave a dry chuckle.

"Witch or not, it doesn't change anything. We're taking her back – I have questions for Old Moon," Shan-Yu told them. Gaitan grinned from his spot on the ground while the others exchanged glances at the news.

"I thought you didn't trust the shaman anymore?" Batu spoke up. Shan-Yu scowled, recalling the words spoken in the smoke filled Ger months ago.

'There is no man who can stop you from taking the old man's empire for your own,' he had said.

No man… he glared at where the Han girl was trying to sleep. He had questions, and he would not act until he knew the answers.

"When I have answers from Old Moon, perhaps you can rape and kill as you wish. Or kill and rape as some say. But until then…" Shan-Yu insulted and warned, leaving the threat hanging in the air. Lasuluun rose and sought out his sleeping spot. Gaitan relaxed, letting his twin also do so. Shirchin smiled at the display of power, while Ulaan simply started a new arrow.

Dawn would come soon, and they still had a ways to go.

X X X

_Fa Zhu stopped when he realized he had said the same prayer three times to this guardian. Rubbing his sore eyes, he shifted in his kneeling position. His joints were stiff and protested the mistreatment he was subjecting them too. He could see the sky outside the stone; the twilight was fading now, still no word._

_With a pop of joints, he came to his feet and sought the incense in the dying light. No, fading, not dying, he told himself with a ferocity he had scarce called on since the walls of the capital. He frowned when he found only single stick of incense; it conveyed the time elapsed more than the sky – the pile he had brought was nearly depleted, but would he dare leave the shrine?_

_A last prayer… but to who? He had recited the lists of his ancestry and burned incense to each guardian so many times. He suspected his own mother had made some sacrifice to the Great Stone Dragon, the missing chicken, like last time. And it was nothing he had not done before, and proven insufficient. Glancing amidst the stone carvings, his eyes fell on a blank spot._

_The Perch of the Fallen Guardian, he had taken to calling it. He recalled all the perches breing occupied when his father had walked him through the shrine as a small child. But no one seemed to remember what manner of beast had been there or when it had been removed. _

_Zhu wondered what became of a spirit that fell – did it still hear prayers? Perhaps an impoverished spirit could aid him where the prosperous couldn't? He lit the stick and placed it in the dragon burner; the tip flared brighter for a second and it seemed as if the iron turned red. He blinked and it was gone, all was as it should be. A trick of the fading light, or a sign?_

_He knelt in prayer to a spirit whose name he did not know, and before half finished footsteps drove him from their serenity._

_He turned and rose as his mother appeared in the doorway. The twilight was almost gone but it caught tears glistening on her panting face. The sight made him cold before fire welled up. With a roar more savage than his war cry he backhanded the dragon burner, knocking it from its chain, sending it clattering into the darkness._

_"No, Zhu, they're alright, they're both," his mother panted and he could see her smile. Tears, but of joy. He flew from the shrine, the words she shouted after him lost._

_The stiffness and was forgotten now, as it had been on the battlefields against the Huns in years past. The next clear thing he recalled was the door opening as the wizened midwife, broad and wrinkled, emerged. She looked him up and down in that way women with some authority do to men. He had not resented such things since war made him a man, and now he barely noticed._

_She held the door for him in answer to his unasked question. He hesitated a moment, his stomach knotting. He had last felt this way before entering the presence of he Emperor, he realized. As he had then, he put one foot in front of the other and heard the door close behind him._

_The light was low, only a single lamp burning. Fa Li was as beautiful as ever, reclining in the bed. No, there seemed an almost glow about her, hair down, robe loose, and babe in her arms._

_'The murals are wrong, a mother's beauty is not in designed elegance,' Fa Zhu thought as months of tension left him, crossing the short distance. She looked up from their child, and smiled. It was a sad smile, but the new father did not recognize it in the moment of bliss. He searched for something to say as he sat down on the bed edge._

_"Our prayers are answered," he spoke. It seemed sufficient as he gently took the baby from her arms. Eyes opened to regard him with curiosity before closing again; so simple, yet he felt more pride than he had kneeling before the Emperor to receive honor._

_"My son," he whispered with pride. His wife sniffed and for the first time he noticed his own joy was not mirrored in her._

_"Your daughter… I'm sorry," she said, turning her face away._

_"Daughter?" he asked dumbly as his exhaustion and hunger began to take their toll. Oh, he supposed he hadn't asked, much less received an answer. Even so it was no call for tears._

_"Why are you sorry? She is beautiful," Fa Zhu asked, reaching out to cup her chin. Her eyes were full of sorrow when he turned her face back._

_"There will be no more, the midwife says she is the last. I wasn't strong enough to bring your sons into the world alive, only her," she sobbed. Now it made sense, the guilt no words had ever been able to banish, the stillborn boys. What could he say now, as his daughter moved against his chest?_

_"She is enough," the hero declared, planting a kiss on his wife's forehead._

The dream shattered and he awoke to another night. He was in bed; he turned his head and saw his wife, facing away. With fingers forced steady, he reached out to the nightstand, fingers closing on the familiar shape. The comb, what she left in place of his armor and sword, along with her hair on the floorboards.

The words beneath the tree when he put it in her hair, yet again seeking to bring comfort to his lonely child. But those were not the parting words, as much as he wished they could have been.

"I know my place! It's time you learned yours!" he could hear his own angry words. When had the gratitude for a child faded so? What could he have said, what could he have done to stop his brave and foolish girl? Could he live if those were the last words between them?

The night was full of regret and offered no answers to his questions.

X X X

Lasuluun was tugging her along today. The sour faced Hun was easily the worst to date. He would jerk the rope, making her stumble, and not with a regularity she could anticipate. She would be a mess of cuts and bruises if not for Shang's training.

"Oh boy, this ain't going to be good," Mushu whispered from his hiding place under the loose tunic. As irritating as hiding the lizard there was, it was better to have him close just in case. Her eyes had been on the ground – her hands bound made it important to watch her footing – but now she saw it, they were going to ford a river.

"Can you swim?" the Hun she believed to be named Lasuluun asked. She steeled her expression, meeting his gaze and nodding.

"Good," he smiled in a way she liked not in the least.

Shan-Yu crossed first on Khan; she winced at her poor horse being broken to obedience by that savage. His defiance seemed to only amuse the monster who had ravaged China only to now escape back to the vermin nests beyond the Wall.

The river was shallow enough the Huns didn't need to put up their swords and the current such as it was didn't seem to phase them on the slippery footing. And the riverbed was slick under her feet. The first jerk sent her falling forward. Her arms caught her awkwardly, saving some of her face from the water.

She could hear some of the Huns laughing as she pulled herself up, slipping and almost falling again.

'Thank you Shang,' she thought, knowing it would be far worse if not for the captain's river training. She was seeing even the stranger exercises had uses.

It was two steps before he pulled her down again. This time he pulled again when she caught herself, leaving her soaked.

"The Shan-Yu wants you healthy; I suppose that means you'll need to slip out of those wet clothes by the fire," Lasuluun chuckled.

"Keep it together baby girl, don't give him an excuse," Mushu whispered. Mulan glared murder at the Hun's back as they crossed, not paying enough attention to catch herself as a final tug sent her sprawling on the stony bank.

"Lasuluun, if I wanted my plunder washed, I would do it myself," Shan-Yu spoke up. She looked up to see them all enjoying the show, even the stoic archer cracking a smile at his master's wit.

"Plunder? You never beat me to claim me. You took me by surprise," Mulan growled. She ignored Cri-Kee tugging her still dry hair; caution was not on her list at the moment.

"If you are foolish enough to be taken by surprise, that's your fault, not mine," the barbarian warlord shrugged.

"You looked pretty surprised in the Pass," Mulan spat. Even the wind seemed stunned to silence at that. He swung down from Khan, glaring at her before smiling, or perhaps just bearing his teeth.

"A duel then – you will yield, and my status as your master will be without doubt. Untie her," Shan-Yu commanded.

Mulan might have been less happy if she had noted how happy her tormentor was to carry out the order. He untied her, looping the rope over his shoulder for later, stepping back to block the way over the river.

A sheathed sword plopped to the pebbled ground before her; she was surprised to see he had given her her father's sword. Shan-Yu inspected the edge of Batu's sword, and looked up to see his prisoner cautiously drawing her own sword.

"Use what your hand knows best, don't claim I wasn't fair," the words were polite enough, but somehow managed to be mocking. Mulan scowled and ripped the hem of her sleeve, and used the cloth to tie her hair back.

"You will pay for the innocent lives you destroyed," she told the warlord. Someone snickered; she glanced around, seeing the Huns covering the area in a loose ring, weapons drawn.

'Even if I kill him…' she realized, before swatting aside the thoughts. There could only be the task at hand.

"Brave words, let's see how far they go," Shan-Yu smiled.

'It's a predator baring its teeth,' she thought. Then he was on her. No one shouted "begin", or made any signal, the fight just started. There was no time to think it was unfair, there was only time to block.

He was fast, unbelievably so for such a large man. Light on his feet, the agility that had aided her at the camp was just enough to keep up with him. Worse was his strength; Chien Po's blows harmed even when blocked, and the gentle giant held back regardless of Shang's scolding.

He wasn't holding back, her sword vibrating as her hand struggled to hold on while her forearm went numb.

'I've never used a sword to kill. This monster's killed hundreds,' she realized. The pebbles slid under her feet the next blow forced her back a step to keep from falling, the same as dying. She had to think, her unarmed skills were her strength; she could even beat Shang at times with those, she needed-

Time she didn't have.

The next blow was from an unexpected angle, numbed fingers lost their grip, and steel clattered to the ground. Reflexively she reached for it, leaving herself open as a battering ram struck her stomach.

Her wound flared and she lost sight of everything in the pain.

Pain brought her back as she was jerked up. Mulan cried out in pain and anger as Shan-Yu grabbed her hair and dragged her the last paces to the shallows. He let her go to kick her onto her stomach, three of his warriors already raising war cries to the spectacle. She had no time to gather herself before he leaned down and gripped her hair again, sword still held ready.

"Yield?" he asked with a disinterested air.

"Never," she spat into his reflection in the river. The hand forced her head down beneath the water. She struggled, but it was like trying to shake off a mountain. She grabbed a handful of pebbles and threw them back over her head; he answered by slamming her face down into the riverbed.

Pulled up into the air, she coughed, gasping. She spat at a terrible and familiar taste – her nose was bleeding.

"Yield?" he asked with that same indifference.

"No," she rasped.

He didn't slam her head again. There was no need; she was dizzy and desperate – this handful she was sure just plopped back into the water when thrown.

He would kill her, she would die here, she realized. Never to return. She saw Mushu swimming and shook her head; he would just die if he did anything. She couldn't let anyone else… her thoughts faded before snapping elsewhere.

Father. She had never been able to repay him, for his patience, or for her brothers that never lived. She couldn't cut his bloodline on top of every other failure! Her enemy pulled her had back up; all she could do was cough and gasp for breath, head spinning.

"Yield?" he asked with no more interest than before.

"Yes," she coughed.

"Yes, what?" he pressed. She couldn't see him but knew he was smiling.

"I yield, to you," she struggled not to sob it as she had her pride taken on top of everything else. Shan-Yu released her to kneel in the river, stepping back onto the shore himself.

"You're mine, my plunder, my property. Many women would consider that an honor; you're a first and I doubt you would call it that. But those Han knees bend easily enough for perfumed highborns and their strutting pets; they will do so easily enough for real men. And if not, I can always dispose of what belongs to me," he told her. The Huns cheered the victory, though the volumes varied somewhat – the matter was decided the old and true way in their eyes.

Mulan lurched onto the bank, shivering from the latest soaking and watched as the Hun collected her father's sword. He glanced and saw her intent gaze fixed on the steel and smiled.

"This? It's not yours anymore; good steel belongs to those good enough to keep it," he told her as if explaining a simple fact to a fool.

"You have no right, you filthy _Xiongnu_(1)_,_" she growled. That was the sword her father became a hero with, spilling Hun blood, how dare he-

That steel was at her cheek, the tip barely touching the skin as her eyes fixed on it.

"Never use that word. Next time you use it you will be beaten. Fail that lesson and Lasuluun and anyone else willing can mount you. Understood?" he was cold for the first time. They really were wolves' eyes; she found herself wondering how he took them from the beast.

He seemed to take silence for acquiescence; her father's steel withdrew and he followed, stomping off somewhere with Khan in tow. His men followed Gaitan, helping her to her feet as they continued north.

She stared at his broad back, wishing her eyes could pierce it. He would pay, somehow, someday.

X X X

They had laughed at her request, save for the archer who only seemed to laugh when it was called for by whatever mad etiquette the Huns followed.

She didn't care, she needed a bath – they smelled bad enough without her own stench tormenting her. It wasn't just her own grime either. The day of the duel, Ulaan had brought down a deer, which her caretaker, Gaitan she now knew, had suggested the pelt for her as she dried. She had to strip down to her wrappings lest the cold sicken while the clothes dried by the fire. They got eyefuls regardless of her efforts. Ulaan seemed disinterested, like in most things, and Batu seemed to disapprove as if it were her fault! Shan-Yu was also lacking interest; the humiliation seemed to interest him more than her exposed skin.

It was said Huns laid with their horses; perhaps that was the case with these three?

The hide gave warmth and modesty, but it was barely treated, juicy. Using leaves the next day she tried to scrub herself, but it was hardly enough.

Now enough was enough.

"Take your bath woman. Try and run and we will catch you, you won't like it when we do," he had said. As if she could run when he made her leave most her clothes behind, humiliating her and making braving the wilderness that much more difficult. And she had no doubt they could catch her – they were savages who called the wild lands home after all.

"Baby girl, I hope you got an idea," Mushu asked, ears firmly clamped over his eyes. She signed as she scrubbed herself, kneeling in the shallows of a stream. The water still made her too uneasy to venture out.

"We have to free Khan; if we're on a horse and they're not we have a real chance," Mulan told him as she wrung out her hair.

"Yeah, but ol' Bessie's under the yoke same as you. No way they're letting their only horse go free, these are Huns," Mushu complained. Mulan scowled and almost told off the dragon for his lack of anything useful, but stopped. It had to hurt him enough as it was, and how much worse it would be if she were truly alone here?

A footstep sent him into the underbrush and she bolted up, covering herself as best she could with her arms.

"I'm not clean yet!" she protested. If they were in such a hurry… Those thoughts trailed off as Lasuluun stepped from the trees and looked her over coldly. His gaze felt like bugs crawling on her.

"I doubt you were ever clean," he stated. She turned to run, only then realizing she should have stood to fight. She turned, but one arm was still covering her chest, no kind of stance at all. He grabbed her by the neck and kicked her feet out from under her with expert ease. She struck him in the neck but he moved with it, only grunting in answer. Spying her bandaged stomach, he hit her there; she gasped and he backhanded her.

The water was shallow enough it didn't even reach her face as she fell back into it. She pushed herself up to her elbows as he began to loosen his belt. The sight and remembering her own nakedness froze her, critically as he knelt down and grabbed her wrists.

"I don't know what tricks you have, it won't matter. The river took you; he won't be able to prove otherwise. But first you pay for the warriors who died without glory," he growled into her face. She was shocked – this couldn't be happening.

"GAAH!" he cried out, arching up. He let her right hand go to pull something from his rear. He only registered it as a snake, tossing the reptile as far as he could after wringing it one handed.

Mulan struck him where it hurt with her free hand.

She could have done better but it was impulse rather than skill, and enough to get him to fall off of her as she came to her feet and started to run.

The Hun was up quick, cursing with murder in his eyes as he lunged for his sword and scooped the blade up. An arrow whizzing past his ear stopped him, and a voice stopped her.

"Enough!" Ulaan commanded. The archer stood on an outcropping overlooking the victim and victimizer with tired disgust. Suren swooped down to perch at his feet, giving a cry. The reason for his arrival was clear; the warlord had taken precautions.

"You would defend the witch? !" Lasuluun demanded, seething.

"No, I defend the order. She stays alive, and only he has the right to despoil her until he says otherwise. Walk away now and I will not speak of this. Try it again and you won't get a warning; I never miss," Ulaan told the would-be rapist.

For a moment it seemed the swordsman would try his luck, but in the end he tugged his belt taut and stalked off, steel still drawn. Mulan looked up to her unlikely savior before remembering to cover herself.

"Thank you," she said, reluctantly but sincerely.

"Don't, what I said to him is true. Revenge is senseless to me, but I can see why he wants it. And you're stupidity gave him too good of a chance to pass up. If my Shan-Yu wants you to die I will slit your throat as simply as if you were a goat to be slaughtered, but he wants you alive and reasonably well for now.

"Get your clothes and come back, better to be unclean because you're dirty. Don't do something so stupid again," he told her, before turning and disappearing back into the shadow of the trees.

Alone, the tension passed and her heart slowed. The realization seeped in and drove her to her knees. She was still crying when Mushu swam up to her, awkwardly curling around one leg, trying to offer some kind of comfort.

X X X

Ulaan watched the woman sleep under the deer hide; despite the low burn of the fire, she was clear enough to his eyes. And perhaps his master's eyes as well. There were stories about the wolf eyes – some were nonsense, but others could have something to them.

The ruler of the Huns sat across from him on the other side of the fire. Lasuluun was off on watch, the rest of them were awake to speak.

The archer glanced back to the woman; he held no anger towards her, such things were too bothersome. What happened was unexpected to say the least, but this was war, or had been. Still, he would have killed her just to simplify things.

But that was not his role; his place was to obey. And to advise.

"Soon we will be at the Wall," he spoke up. The wolf eyes looked up from the fire to him.

"Yes," he answered. There was anger there; again, he understood without sharing. They had crossed it before as conquerors sweeping away all before them. They had two grapples still, and would cross by the same manner. Only rather than letting the Han spread the word of doom to their coming this time they had to sneak across.

The anger was lost on him, but pride was something he had, and it did twinge at this. But that was not the matter to be discussed.

"The Council will be called to summit. The Chieftains and Shamans will demand to know how the warriors they gave you perished for so little plunder," Ulaan stated.

"Our horde gave the most," Batu grumbled. Gaitan nodded, sober at the thought of so many lost faces, and swords.

"The old men and cowards chose not to cross, they have no right to question true warriors," Shirchin spoke up.

"That didn't stop the Night of Daggers," Ulaan countered. The circle was silenced as Shan-Yu stared at the archer and drew his sword.

"I am not my father, they know this," Shan-Yu reminded them. Cast in shadow, with the light in his eyes and on the steel, he seemed some vengeful spirit come among them.

"Your half-brother is not like his father either. But he will try something – what man wouldn't?" Ulaan pressed.

"Unegan… if he did anything half so well as he talked he would have tried something years ago. When the tribes assemble for summit he will talk and talk. But he is his father's son; between him and me they will never chose him.

"The old men will dicker and try to force a bride on me again. Perhaps I should give them that; it will distract them from any meaningful demand.

"And if Unegan tries something, I will kill him. Same for the chieftains if they forget their place," Shan-Yu told his men. Ulaan frowned while the twins nodded their ascent grimly. Shirchin smiled and looked to his ruler with naked admiration.

He almost wished the fools would push too far.

X X X

Mulan marched along, the deer hide hanging from her shoulders, Gaitan holding the leash about her wrists. Mushu was hidden behind her, tucked in her clothes and warmed by the fur; his injuries were thankfully light. His injury in her defense had also thankfully unwound the knot of resentment that had been building toward him.

She looked up when she heard Shan-Yu dismount her poor horse. The stallion remained defiant and was paying the price. The Hun leader may have been reluctant to damage a horse, but he would not tolerate disobedience.

"It's a good sign, a loyal horse," Gaitan had said to her one night, giving her a piece of the jerky the Huns ate when they lacked fresh meat. They seemed like kind words, but she would not believe that of a Hun; she need only look to the grim faced man to remember. And the doll… in her dreams she often held it still.

Looking around she saw why they had stopped, and despite the circumstances her mouth widened in awe.

They stood in a hollow that had been cleared halfway some years ago as stumps littered the area. But through the trees she could see it clearly. The Great Wall, one of the Glories of the Empire. Dividing civilization, the Middle Kingdom, from savagery. It was so close now.

It was close.

A rock fell into her stomach as the Huns not attending to her gathered to speak among themselves. If she crossed that wall she would be in their territory. Would the army even let her back in if she came from the wrong side of the Great Wall?

The Army! There must be troops there. Shang had said once that there had been no more crossings of the Wall. How would he have known if there hadn't been soldiers still walking the Wall!

This was her chance, thwart their escape and regain her freedom. She would have to be quick and above all clever.

"We're almost home," Shan-Yu announced, walking over to her. She saw the other Huns still talking while the leader waved Gaitan off.

"Not really, home's the other direction," Mulan spoke up. He would take meekness as more suspicious.

"Not for you, not anymore," he told her. It wasn't taunting, it was spoken as a simple fact. That gave her pause. She saw the fist coming and wondered why before seeing stars.

She smelled wood burning. Not dung, and for a moment thought it was a military fire and Yoa would smack the back of her head to wake her up.

But she opened her eyes to see a familiar troop gathered around the less foul smelling fire, and shifted to find a deer hide warming her. But no ropes?

She sat up and inspected her chafed wrists.

"No more need," Gaitan told her. He sat down next to Mulan and gave her a piece of the venison jerky; she had thought that was all gone.

"What do you mean?" she asked, too out of it to be hostile.

He pointed away and she saw that they were in hill country and make out the Great Wall in the distance. It was also night, and checking the sky her stomach lurched as she looked frantically for some answer other than the one she saw.

They were north of the Wall. Shan-Yu gave her no chance; they knocked her out and carried her over like the plunder she was to them.

As panic started to set in she realized something was missing from the camp.

"Where is Khan?" she asked numbly. Gaitan put a hand on her shoulder and did not resist when he lightly slapped it away still looking a mile away.

"We couldn't take a horse over on grapples; he was turned loose and nearly called the garrison down on us with his noise. Be thankful it's bad luck to kill a healthy stallion, or Ulaan would have felled him," Gaitan told her.

She wasn't grateful; they had stolen her after all. And she had lost the oldest friend she had. That night she finally showed them her tears even as she hated herself for doing it.

X X X

A man sat in a tent by the light of a single brazier. He was a young man, in his prime, his long handsome face untouched by the worries of age. His long hair was pulled back into a tail; thick side burns framed his face, lightly tracing part of his jaw line. A cloak of fox pelts hung from his shoulders, his fine tunic adorned with beads of gold, and a well used steel chain wrapped about his waist. Eight bejeweled rings adorned his hands, the ones of the left made more prominent by the silver chalice inscribed with the images of foreign gods it held.

His eyes casually swept the chamber of canvas, adding up the wealth obscured by the dancing shadows. Seemingly content all was as it should be he tilted the cup. A girl wearing once fine clothes gone to fray scampered forward with a clay bottle and poured for him. As he straightened the cup, she stepped back ready to attend to anything else.

He took little note of the child, gently swirling the alcohol and breathing in its aroma. A fine drink, he thought, the sort of thing that had to be taken from others. Just like the cup that held it.

"Why must the best things in life be taken?" the chieftain asked aloud. The girl's already wide eyes grew nervous; while certain she was not meant to answer there would be consequences if she were wrong. Her first impression seemed accurate; he sipped his drink without regard for her.

"Child," he did not bother trying to remember her name.

"I am done with you, tell your mother to await me in my bed," he commanded.

"Yes father," she nodded, before backing out of the dancing lights. The Hun chieftain took a deeper drink, holding it in his mouth and savoring the flavor. A lone wind swept over the brazier, lowering the flames. Swallowing, he glanced about, looking bored.

His eyes landed on a blob of deeper darkness beneath a tapestry from the west, which rose up to stand tall as a man. Assuming a vague shape not unlike a man's shadow it opened its eyes, shining spheres of sickly green.

"Unegan," the ghoul greeted him.

"You have news?" Unegan leaned back on his backless seat.

"He has crossed the Wall; I can see him clearly once more," the ghoul answered.

"Well, he made good time, considering. We will move south in anticipation of the summit call. What else? I hope you didn't disturb me for just that," Unegan sighed.

"Impudence, you forget yourself," the ghoul hissed, gliding forward a pace. Unegan sneered and took a sip of his drink.

"You're not infallible, as you would have me think. You said my thieving brother would never return, that he would die in fire. Now he returns alive and you expect me to kowtow to your wisdom?" Unegan raised an eyebrow.

"You are… nothing without me," the ghoul rasped.

"Those are my words to say. My blood binds you, and my will can see you gone. Never forget that; hate me all you want, but never forget the facts," Unegan chuckled, undaunted by the evil spirit.

"Hhhh, he brings a sun with him," the ghoul admitted.

"What? A sun?" Unegan frowned, wondering if he was being mocked.

"The visions, they show me symbols as much as what is. Deeper sights, higher levels, signs beyond mere mortals," the ghoul explained, relishing the last words.

"The Sun, what does it mean like this?" Unegan inquired, wary and curious.

"A new era; he brings the catalyst of a new era back with him. And he has no idea, he is as blind as you," the ghoul elaborated.

"A new era, yes the rising sun of _my_ era.

"What is it? Some sacred relic from a gutted Han temple, plunder from a great noble's vaults, or was some power unearthed? What?" Unegan demanded, growing excited.

"A woman, he brings a woman," the ghoul declared. Unegan got to his feet, scowling at the shadowy creature.

"A woman? How does a woman win me back what he stole?" Unegan demanded.

"I… cannot look at her to know," the ghoul admitted. Unegan blinked before laughing; still grinning, he drained more of his drink.

"Of course, men can't stare into the sun, the likes of you might perish at its merest touch. I'll find it what is needed; you go back to skulking in the shadows.

"Actually, I'm glad Bataar has returned, he shouldn't have glory in falling to the Han. Yes, I will see him perish on my terms and reclaim what's mine over his cooling corpse," Unegan smiled, looking at his reflection in the last of his liquor.

"Do not underestimate… the Young Wolf," the ghoul growled. Unegan glanced up at it as if it was a roach.

"The Young Wolf's not so young as he used to be, and no longer undefeated. Enough, leave," Unegan waved a ringed hand at the apparition. Its eyes narrowed into slits, glaring at the Hun chieftain before closing entirely and the dark form receded from sight.

Truly alone, the fire kicked up again, catching the glint of the silver in a way Unegan found most beautiful. He considered the last of his drink, feeling a certain amount of ceremony was in order at the night's revelations.

"Take what glory you can from your failure Bataar, it will be the last glory you have. The sun rises for Unegan," the chieftain proclaimed. He drained the cup and capped the brazier, sending the chamber into darkness.

**1).** This is the Chinese name and thus most used name for the nation the movies Huns were based off of. It translates basically as 'filthy vermin', insulting to say the least. Since the term Hun is used commonly in the movie the actual term will be used as a racial slur for this story.

**AN:** See its not dead. Though I may have whipped up the mob rather than appeasing it.

I confess I didn't intend the river scene to be so graphic, for one I panned on her being assailed with her clothes still on. But frankly I would expect Mulan to win the fight under those circumstances and this is Mulan hitting nadir as part of the spiral stretching back to her secret being revealed. So in a way I broke her down here out of respect for the lengths needed to achieve that.

Hope that makes sense, and you stick around for the rebound.

Its disconcerting because this is easily one of the darkest parts of the story and it comes to the front. Believe me when I say this story won't be all angst and darkness, but if this outs you off I think no less of you for leaving.

Long days pleasant nights to you all.


	3. Destination

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Mulan, Disney does. I think; anyway, it is not mine.

_Betaed by_: JazzQueen and Zim'smostloyalservant.

**X X X X X X**

**Destinations**

Her feet had gone numb; that was very bad, Mulan thought wearily. Arms rubbing her mostly bare torso, she walked through the razed village in the pale light of the moon. The embers had died down, and she missed them – no unintentional gift from the enemy to stave off the cold.

The wind kicked up, striking her in the face like a punch, the broken bell ringing sourly somewhere. She stumbled back, her ankles already buried in the foul white powder.

"If I fall, I die," she spoke though chattering teeth, the steam of her breath stolen by the wind. There was no one here, not Shang, her friends, or any of the boys. Or her father.

She almost fell to her knees at that absurd thought. Just like the weak little girl no man would let serve under their banner, wanting her father to save her. How easily her resolve to save him turned on its heels.

Then she saw it, the moonlight catching on steel in a beautiful light. It looked like hope, and half-naked she waded through the snow towards it.

It was Shang's memorial to his father, only it wasn't. It was her helm and sword arranged there before her. Before she could question this, she saw a dark shape laying on the snow next o it. She could make it out, forcing her way through the snow and wind. A deer pelt, the red deer hide she had worn upon her back.

Not wasting another moment to consider the pelt, she grabbed the helm and hastily plopped it on her head. It wasn't what mattered anyway. With reverent desperation, she ripped her father's sword from the ground and held it up.

"Yes," she whispered triumphantly.

Her expression was giddy, looking into the facets of ice caked on the blade; the wind kicked up, filling her ears. With a cry of anger at her unabated torment, she swung out with the blade at the wind. She stumbled, more throwing herself than a proper swing.

She looked at the sword in dumb confusion, and realized her numb hands were covered in ice, frozen to the hilt. Mulan tried to flex her hands but she couldn't even feel her arms as ice creped up them. A furious gust sent her to her back with a shout of protest.

Lying nearly buried in the snow as it continued to pile, she forced herself up partly, her head and shoulders rising clear, though only her face remained free of snow. And her strength faded, the helm too heavy, sending her slowly but surely under as snow gathered on her cheeks.

"One cannot fight the cold with steel," a distant soft voice spoke over the wind.

'Who, where?' she wondered as her freezing head fell back. Only her right eye remained as the snow swallowed her. With it she realized the moon was an eye, an eye in a very old face.

"Baby girl, it's time," someone hissed into her ear, tugging on it.

Mulan's eyes snapped open, and saw Mushu in front of her face. Her confusion must have been evident because he sighed and she looked around at the Hun camp. The fire was dying and the dawn lights were starting to appear.

That's right, she asked Mushu to wake her up so her captors wouldn't kick her awake again. The night air was still chill, and she found herself pulling the pelt covering her closer to hold the warmth, if only for a few moments longer.

_China:_

The sun shined down on a verdant landscape of wooded hills and rice paddies, the wind blew with late warmth but also carried a reminder of chill. Soon the blossoms would begin to fall in earnest in the low lands as autumn then winter would march down from the heights.

The dirt road stretched up from the hub of the small but busy town. An old settlement not liable to become more than it was, but having grown somewhat elegant in its humble prosperity. Four riders put it at their backs at they road into the ring of prosperous farmhouses encircling the town.

All were armored for war and held themselves with the pride of veterans. The leader was a tall handsome man, his feathered helm and flowing red cape proclaiming him a higher officer of the army, setting those he passed to pause and bow to the honorable officer. Behind him came an odd trio of men, who the locals could not help but stare after.

A tall thin man rode behind the officer, his armor seeming to flaunt his beanpole stature rather than conceal it. Glancing to the roadside, he grinned smugly at the attention, striking a "heroic" pose as a young woman hanging laundry with a kerchief holding back her hair watched him ride past.

To the officer's left rode a small man whose saddle must have been modified to accommodate his compact build. Shoulders broad, deep chested, and thick of arm, he looked forward with a scowl as if the attention was beneath his notice.

Yet what caught and held attention was the giant in blue armor coming up the rear of the small company of soldiers. He stood near twice the height of most men and was built like a boulder. Though his horse was a massive beast with shaggy hair seeming more fit to pull plows than charge enemies, the giant walked at a brisk pace, guiding the animal. He bowed his head to the roadside onlookers, smiling acknowledgment before turning his attention to the chest strapped behind his saddle.

Shang brought his horse to a halt in front of the walled compound they had been directed to. The home of Fa Zhu, and Fa Mulan. In a smooth motion, he swung down from his horse, watching as two of his men did the same with less elegance. A light glance to the onlookers sent them on their way. They knew his business was with the great man and was not for them.

"So pretty boy, hope you have something better than what you were practicing. 'You forgot your helmet', ha! My dead uncle has better lines," Yoa remarked, dusting off his armor. Shang frowned at the irreverent man. The respect his men had for him had taken a blow in the Pass, but Yoa had lost all respect in the aftermath of the Emperor's declaration on the victory.

Everyone else took the silver, he keeps his silence on the truth but he refuses to be paid for it. It was frustrating; Shang valued discipline, but could he truly begrudge the man having honor?

'Well at the very least Ping – Mulan – will have something for her trouble,' Shang thought as Chien Po caught up with them.

"Lay off the Colonel, Yoa, we're here bearing gifts," Ling chided his friend as he removed his own helmet. Shang did the same, stepping up to the door; he paused suddenly at a loss at what to say.

"Cold feet, huh? I'll fix that," Yoa spoke up mockingly. The shorter man stepped up next to Shang and rapped his armored knuckles against the door in three booming strikes. Shang turned his head to admonish the soldier, stopping at the man's crossed arms and smirk; what exactly would he tell him off for?

Taking a deep breath, Shang turned his attention back to the door. He hoped his hair hadn't come loose at some point, because that would just be perfect for meeting a living legend. His father spoke highly of Fa Zhu, and General Li was as exacting with his praise as with anything else. Shang could count on his hands the times he had earned his father's vocal approval.

Chifu would never understand; his father would have never let a son of his near anything martial if he didn't measure up to the standards of the Li family.

'My standards now, I'm family head now,' Shang reminded himself. Like the helm under his arm, the title just didn't seem to fit him. And no one was answering the door.

"Maybe they are out?" Chien Po suggested. Shang looked up at the wall and gate; he really didn't know how to proceed. Entering uninvited might be acceptable at his rank, but having left Mulan lying in the snow it hardly seemed proper to barge in. Maybe come back later, he had seen an inn…

"Who is it! ?" an old woman called from the other side of the door. At least some problems solve themselves, Shang thought wryly.

"I am Colonel Shang of the Imperial Army, accompanied by three of my able soldiers. I have come at behest of the Emperor to meet with the Fa family," Shang called, tilting his head up. After a moment where he picked up whispered talk, the gate swung in, revealing a small, wrinkled, snow haired woman in a blue dress.

"Well, come in!" she commanded with a curt gesture.

"Grandmother!" another woman cried out, coming into sight, having apparently been the one opening the gate. She was middle-aged, her figure beginning to expand as color left the hair that was held up in a traditional style. Her clothes befit the lady of the house in dark pink, but she seemed a bit old to be mother of a sixteen-year-old girl, Shang thought.

"Colonel Shang, sir, I am Fa Li and this is-" the woman began, bowing as the elder just looked Shang up and down with a smile that made him want to take a step back.

"The single lady of the house," the old woman put in. Fa Li glared at the elderly woman while Shang turned at the sound of snickering behind him. Two of his men looked too innocent at the moment not to be guilty.

"I have been sent here by personal order of the Emperor to settle the matter of Fa Mulan," Shang declared, wanting the situation back in control. That got the women's attention, though they seemed frozen in place at the moment.

'Was that too much a command voice? Idiot! You don't bark at women like they're soldiers, get it together!' Shang chided himself.

"Chien Po," he called out, turning his head slightly. The giant nodded, lifting the chest in his hands up and stepping forward to hold it out to the women.

"Here it is," he told them.

Fa Li screamed, startling birds from trees and setting Shang's hand to his sword in reflex. Chien Po dropped the chest as the woman fainted, to be caught by the large man hastily.

"What?" Shang asked, wondering which ancestor he had offended for this day.

"What? ! You bring her daughter's head back in a chest and you ask what? !" the old women demanded, rounding Chien Po to stick a finger up in Shang's face.

Chien Po must not have heard; as Shang tried to grasp her accusations he placed the woman gently on the ground and scooped up the chest.

"You wanted gold?" the soldier asked, holding out the chest now opened to reveal the silver coins filling it. The woman whirled, finger held at ready, only for it to flop down at the treasure being held in her face.

"What? Is this one of those tax refunds I hear about? Well, it's about time!" she snapped. She snatched the chest from his hands and slammed the lid shut in an impressive display of strength.

"I see where it comes from," Yoa whispered to Ling, who nodded in agreement.

"Can I speak to Fa Zhu, please?" Shang asked with a taint of exasperation. He was starting to think Fa women were senseless as a matter of blood. Best go directly to the man himself.

'As if you're not putting off seeing her,' the annoying voice in his head spoke up. No, it was rude to ask to see the daughter before introducing yourself to the man of the house, it was!

"He's probably at the shrine, he goes there a lot lately," the elder woman stated, adjusting the band in her hair. Shang followed her line of sight, seeing what looked like a garden through a doorway. With a thankful nod, he checked to make sure the note was still on his person, and waked away from the group.

"So did you know Fa Deng?" Ling asked the elderly woman, who had put the chest down to try and revive her daughter-in-law.

"I should hope so! My husband; always knew he would go to the ancestors early. Man couldn't find his own sandals without help, though he always said someone moved them. Wasn't surprised he rode into the wrong war camp, sad but not surprised," Grandmother huffed wistfully.

"Any idea who Mushu was?" Yoa inquired about the famous last words.

"I'd guess someone that gave him directions he failed to follow; nothing was ever his fault, to hear him tell it. Thank the spirits my boy took after me!" she recounted as Chien Po fetched a bucket of water.

X X X

The shrine was easy to spot; Shang rounded a magnificent cherry tree to approach the small rise the traditional shrine stood upon. Crossing the ornamental bridge over the stream he stopped, noticing a vacant pedestal. He could tell something had stood on it until relatively recently by the colors of the stone. Dismissing the distraction, he walked up the cobbled path to the shrine, stepping over a small white dog curled up with a bone.

'_The_ Fa Zhu, I am actually going to speak to him,' Shang pondered, reaching the doorway to the shrine.

The man's back was to him, kneeling in prayer as incense filled the air. Even from this angle the man in fine but not fancy blue clothes impressed; the hair was grey with white advancing, but his posture still held the strength and grace of a skilled warrior.

Shang went to one knee, averting his eyes to the stones beneath him.

"Welcome to my home, young soldier," Fa Zhu greeted him without turning. Of course his senses were sharp, Shang admonished himself for his surprise. The voice was slightly gravelly, not resounding as his father's had been, but it held a deep power, commanding respect without the need of rising.

"I humbly apologize for interrupting your prayers. I am Colonel Li Shang, son of the late Honorable General Li Ciao," Shang introduced himself.

"If you're here, the time when prayers are needed is past. You have your father's bearing, young Colonel," Fa Zhu continued, turning to regard him with one eye. The older man reached for a cane and swept it up to rise with weight on it. Shang was stunned; the Great Hero was crippled, surely if he had been so wounded his sacrifice would be hailed across the empire.

"This, it wasn't war that did it," Fa Zhu informed him, reading his look. Shang was certain he flushed.

"Fa Zhu, I have come here by imperial decree to settle the matter of your daughter, that is to say Fa Mulan," Shang managed. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out the scroll case and held it out to Fa Zhu, who regarded it with a scowl before lightly taking it.

The older man unrolled the scroll with steady determination, which gave way to confusion as he read it. Letting it roll up in one hand, he turned a lost look on Shang.

"I don't understand," Fa Zhu stated plainly.

"The Emperor feels the matter must be kept secret but still wises to award the Fa family. It's not just that, my men brought a fortune in silver for you. Hasn't she told you what happened?" Shang explained, growing confused.

"Young man, I have not seen my daughter since the night she ran away with my summons. I thought you had come to return her head to us," Fa Zhu answered plainly. A stone dropped into Shang's stomach.

"But I spared her, she had her horse! She should have returned long…" Shang protested, getting to his feet. A horse's cry was caught by both men's sharp ears. And it was a sound they both recognized.

"Mulan!" Shang shouted, turning. He was almost knocked over as Fa Zhu rushed past him. The man moved well and quick despite his handicap. Still the cane caught on the bridge and he would have fallen if the younger man passing him hadn't near hauled him to his feet.

They came to the courtyard together, stopping side by side. Fa Li sat on the ground next to the chest, Grandmother's hands on her shoulders. The trio was tending to an exhausted and badly weathered black stallion.

"Khan," Shang said, numbly recognizing the animal.

'How many fools bring a horse to an infantry regiment? One,' he heard himself say.

"Mulan?" Fa Zhu whispered, looking out the open gate the rider-less horse had come through.

A cold wind blew as Shang watched the old hero limp up to his horse. He couldn't help but think winter had come after all.

_The Steppes:_

Mulan watched the rocky ground in front of her as the trek north continued. The wind was sharp and cold, while somewhere that basted falcon cried out in the sky. Crikee stirred about under her clothes as the deer pelt hung from her shoulders, held against the wind by her hands. She supposed Mushu was around somewhere, still looking for some kind of escape for her. Not that it mattered she wasn't even looking around at this point, just following, knowing what would happen if she didn't.

That seemed to suit the Huns fine; the days had fallen into a routine where she was silent and obedient, which of course pleased them. That sense of security was her one advantage, a small one but there was nothing else now, much less hope for escape.

Her thoughts continued that downward spiral as the small band of survivors marched through the mountainous borderlands towards a wide pass. She almost walked past the Huns when they stopped, only catching herself when she noted the lack of other footfalls. For the first time in days she raised her head in irritation, looking them in the faces, or rather tying too. Save for Lasuluun, grinning mockingly, their attention was focused behind her.

"One of ours," Ulaan nodded to Shan Yu, who walked past her at the words. Frowning, she turned to see what they were talking about. A rider was descending the pass on horseback amidst the rocky terrain on a brown mare. She frowned at the display of recklessness; she liked horses.

"I suppose a Han would think this is rough terrain for a horse," Shan Yu spoke. She turned, seeing the mocking smile she expected under the cold wolf eyes, holding out an arm, which his falcon alighted on with practiced ease. Soon enough the rider was upon them, a Hun, younger, more of an age with her than her captors. He wore no sword she could see, instead displaying a long knife and a pair of short spears strapped to his back.

Reining up his horse, he swung down with ease but not nearly the grace she had seen from Shan Yu. Long hair hung about his face as he bowed his head and brought his fists together over his chest.

"Welcome home sire," the Hun outrider stated. Mulan raised an eyebrow at the man who was not even close to on his knees before the Hun ruler. Perhaps they were related?

"We are expected," Shan Yu stated, finger tapping the pommel of her sword.

"Old Moon foresaw disaster and predicted the place of your return. How far behind are the others?" the young Hun answered.

"There are no others," Shan Yu answered. The young man's face snapped up. The eyes were wide; he had a small mustache with patches of stubble on his chin, she saw. He turned numbly as Shan Yu walked past him to his horse.

"I am going on ahead," he announced, mounting the horse. The scout nodded, turning it into another one of those Hun bows.

"The Ger is camped to the east of the mouth," he told him. He received a tiny nod in answer before Shan Yu turned the horse about and set it to galloping up into the pass. Mulan sighed and went back to looking at the ground. The young man looked after his disappearing horse anxiously. Shirchin clapped him on the shoulder as the group started moving, Lasuluun getting her walking with a shove.

"You know the stories about his horsemanship?" the helmed Hun asked. The younger Hun nodded, fiddling with his mustache.

"They're true," the veteran stated. The two started after the rest of the group, the scout frowning in puzzlement at the woman wearing a deer pelt.

X X X

He spotted the smoke marking the Ger shortly after emerging from the pass, Suren shadowing him in the sky. Faint, but clear enough to his eyes. He spurred the horse on but not enough wear it out. The Shan Yu scowled at the coming encounter. Since his return from the northern lands, victory had been his sole song. Some had been sweeter than others, but not even the unspoken Shan Yu had been able to force him back in disgrace.

A part of him regretted not gambling on a surprise attack on the Han Palace, but he shoved such concerns aside. There was nothing to be gained in questioning his own actions at this point.

Perhaps the strange anxiety is what made the ascent into the high grasslands so swift, and the massive circle of tents loom large. The smell of the Ger hit home before the sounds – animals and smoke dominating, with the smells of tanners and other crafters beneath. He could see one of his herds being moved at some distance, a black mass he identified as goats.

A crowd had gathered in the open space that turned the Ger into a crescent; he had naturally been spotted and now the people came to greet him and receive news. The Huns before him as he reigned up were mostly garbed plainly, younger men, old men, and women, not prepared for war with the warriors mostly out riding or keeping to their posts.

It hit true once more what the events at the Pass translated too as he matched wives to men lost under the snow. A single figure approached him on horseback.

This one was every piece a warrior, the cut of the hides, the leather about the torso, the rings of gold and silver on hands and sewn into the tunic, the pair of throwing spears strapped to the back flanking a wild black mane only half tamed by the two traditional braids. A single eye appraised him lightly, its twin's grave hidden by a thick hide patch. The warrior reached down with a gloved hand and drew a short curved sword in salute to him.

"Mighty Bataar, Shan Yu of all Huns, you have returned, and so do I, Oyunbileg, return this Ger to your rule and will," the tall woman declared. Bataar smiled; the sight of another capable follower took the edge off the losses he had taken recently.

"Well met, and well said. I am sorry to say I bring dark tidings," he addressed both her and the Ger. Oyunbileg was steady as she sheathed her sword, unusually solemn.

"Old Moon saw disaster, though for you to return… well, it could be worse," she admitted warily.

"I bring back five warriors," he told them sternly. The wind alone broke the silence as his words sunk in. The warrior woman's eye widened dangerously and her horse shifted in protest as her right hand seized the mane in a tight grip.

"How?" she demanded, just as others began to recover.

He told them the tale dryly, no different than he had told of victories in the past. From the brave defiance by the sole Han soldier on the Cursed Wall, to the White Horse General's corpse being presented to him it was only the truth. The Pass was true as well, the trap laid for them by the desperate remnants of the Imperial Army.

Then came the lies. He turned his back on the city without that fateful meeting, and let the tale trail off.

It was clear he was done speaking on the matter, and the crowd dispersed quickly. The mourning feast to celebrate the dead and avow themselves of victory in the future would need to be prepared swiftly. Others went off to mourn now; they were Huns and would not shed their tears in public, shaming the dead.

Shortly he and Oyunbileg were alone in the open ground, as the activity of the Ger rose in pitch.

"My husband?" she demanded stonily.

"He lives. Where is the old man?" Bataar answered her. She let out a relieved sigh, the tension that had been holding her rigid since he rode in releasing. She almost missed his question; he saw her pull back up realizing he had made his own question on the heels of answering her own.

"In his tent," she answered quickly. Nodding affirmation, the Shan Yu swung down, leaving someone else to tend to the horse.

Moving through the Ger at a quick pace, his expression darkened at the coming meeting. He knew where the tent he needed was; somehow it was always the same place. He met no one, or perhaps they felt his approach and mood, and thus made way before him.

His hand fell to the pommel of the plundered blade as he reached his goal at last. The tent was a disgrace in all honesty, so patched one could not be certain where the patches began and the main cloth ended. Four poles topped with sun bleached horse skulls, cracked ceremonially, surrounded the tent and thin trails of smoke trailed from the smoke hole atop it. The shift in the wind brought strange smells, but ones he had long known.

A shadow assed over him and he watched as Suren perched atop the tattered tent. It took a moment before the falcon found satisfying purchase, and he felt a difference in its regard. This was the only place were his companion's loyalty was divided. This fact sparked the ruler's irritation.

"Old man!" Shan Yu called. A puff of wind from within set the tent flap fluttering, pink smoke leaking out to curl about his boots.

"The Young Wolf returns, wonders abound in these dark days," a low rasping voice echoed from within.

"We need to discuss the matter of your fortune telling, old man," the warlord stated.

"Enter then, step into the mysteries and know," the voice beckoned as the smoke curled up around his boots.

"Come out, Old Man," the Shan Yu answered, a small kick dispersing the smoke.

"Enter…" the voice insisted

"Come out," he rebutted

"Knowledge comes to those-" the voice boomed.

"Come out or I will burn the tent down," he cut in without raising his voice.

"He who acts with…" The voice insisted as the Shan Yu turned to walk towards the nearest bonfire. The tent flap burst aside with a puff of discolored smoke.

"Fine, fine, take my moment and ride a horse over it. In my day, when an elder wanted to be dramatic you applauded," the figure griped. He was bent with age, leaning heavily on a staff taller than him, decorated with pelts strips and gourds tied to it. A baboon pelt hung over his frame and a helm with a broken rusty spike covered his head. The face was pale and deeply wrinkled, the right eye white with blindness. Three eadols (1) hung from his neck from a cord, a bear, a wolf, and a falcon in between.

"Follow," Shan Yu commanded. They were already at the edge of the Ger, as the old man always was due to the smell, and now they struck out onto the grasslands. This was going to be private

"Follow? Giving orders to your elders like that, what's the world come to? Why in my day-!" the shaman griped.

"In your day, men fled from horses in terror thinking they were monsters," Shan Yu called back, irritated as the old man followed him with a hopping gait. The shaman stopped, looked puzzled at the massive man's back, before grinning.

"So you did listen to what I said," he remarked, his grin revealing a mostly toothless mouth. There was no answer as they continued out into the grass; the shaman frowned again.

"Such rudeness, where's the gratitude? ! I give the best years of my life raising you up to be a great warrior, and what do I get for it? Do I have a herd of kinda-grandkids to tease and spoil? No! All I get is the scariest man in all of Asia!

"Oh, great Ancestors and Spirits, why have you forsaken your most dedicated and handsome servant? !" he cried to the heavens. The Hun leader put a hand to his face and pulled it down slowly.

"Enough of your nonsense, old man," he commanded, turning to face the shaman.

"Nonsense?" Old Moon scratched his neck.

"You lied to me about the future," he cut to the point. Now the good eye hardened, regarding the warlord with a cold intent.

"I told you the truth, no man could stop you from realizing Bharbo's ambition," Old Moon retorted coldly.

"So you saw a woman steal my victory?" Shan Yu demanded.

"No, I saw a woman end you with fire with the horse skull cracked (2)," Old Moon answered evenly.

"Ice, ice not fire, and it did not end me," Shan Yu crossed his arms.

"That much is obvious; the future is a river, its course is usually steady and easily followed if you know how, but there are forks in the flow. And even times when the entire course can shift, drying what was once watered and watering what was dry," Old Moon murmured dramatically.

"I should kill you for letting me ride to the doom you saw," Shan Yu sneered.

"Bah! Don't be stupid Bataar; if you had it in you to kill me, you would have done it years ago. So let's skip your pointless threats and my useless scoldings for your honor-less warpath. You have the girl?" Old Moon waved aside the threats. Bataar looked surprised, and then narrowed his wolf eyes.

"The Cursed Wall makes my sight blurry and inconsistent, but I saw her clearly in the dreaming time. Strange for you to show mercy – this is only the second time you have, yes?" Old Moon pressed.

"I wanted answers before I did anything drastic," Bataar answered. Old Moon gave a hooting laugh, setting the scowl of the Shan Yu deeper.

"Anything drastic? Drastic is practically your word of life. But you are doing more thinking, which is always good, except when it's bad," Old Moon observed.

"I thought you wanted me to die?" Bataar pointed out.

"Sun and Moon, no! Your death was just the best outcome I could see, now we have a new river to ride, and you've brought the sun back with you!" Old Moon exclaimed, hobbling up to look up into the younger man's face.

"The sun?" Bataar deadpanned, looking unmoved. He caught the staff blow on his forearm casually.

"The girl, stupid! The girl is the sun! Such potential, it almost blinded my other eye to look at her there," Old Moon ranted, turning away.

"A Han with great potential? I'll kill her once the others arrive," Bataar decided. He turned to walk away, the old man almost stranding rigid before running after.

"No! Don't kill her!" Old Moon protested.

"Don't kill?" Bataar turned an amused look on the man.

"Yes, it's what you do when you don't swing a sword as your standard response. Tell me, does the sun pick who to shine on? No! It gives its light to whoever is there in the clear. Having her around will bring you good fortune, the Huns good fortune," Old Moon insisted, gesturing to the sun above.

"Like the Han in the Pass?" Bataar inquired, touching his chin in thought. Old Moon nodded vigorously.

It occurred to Bataar good luck, while not normally something he sought, could be useful just now. He was confident even after this loss his control of the Huns was cast in iron, but the lack of pointless rebellion would allow him to cross the Wall again that much sooner.

"Very well, I will keep her alive and well for now. But if she poses a threat, she dies," Bataar decided. Turning his back to the old man, he began to walk back to the Ger, Suren alighting on his shoulder. Old Moon watched him go, his triumphant smile giving way to a frown as he turned his face toward the heavens.

"Tianlinn, Zaya, what am I to do with him? There's a chance, but he is so unfit to take it," he prayed. He listened as the wind picked up, before pulling the pelt closer and catching up to the Shan Yu.

Bataar twisted as something flew at him. He caught it in his hand and looked at the drinking skin he now held.

"I'm dry, bring me more kusmiss (3) while you're stomping about! In my day a young man would offer to fill the skins without being asked," Old Moon grumbled as he passed Bataar.

_Sunset:_

The sun was touching the horizon as the small band of warriors arrived at the Ger. The preparations were well under way so the crowd was much smaller, and growing smaller as women picked out the figures approaching, the final hopes laid to rest.

Oyunbileg smiled, picking out a single man in the tiny war-band. Reaching down, she ruffled the briar like mane of hair on the plainly dressed boy that came up to her waist.

"One eye!" Shirchin called, raising his hand as the warrior woman walked up to him.

"A mountain falls on you, and still you don't loose the stupid helmet," she sighed, crossing her arms in front of him. He deflated a bit at that, adjusting the helm.

"That just proves it's good luck, like I've been saying for years. Qorchi! Come here lad," he called, spotting the boy. The thin boy ran up to stand beside his mother and found his hair being violated again.

"You grow like spring grass! I could swear I had to bend my knees to do this last time," the big man laughed.

"You didn't!" Qorchi protested.

"So you're not growing? Hmm, we may have a dwarf on our hands," Oyunbileg frowned. The boy's face reddened while the man barked with laughter.

"I'm pleased you are well Shirchin, but I must see to my husband," Oyubileg looked up to the large man.

"Of course, I'd best see to my own lodging for the night," Shirchin shrugged. She watched him go, before turning to find her husband walking past.

"Ulaan," she greeted, pivoting on her heel. He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Oyunbileg," he answered.

"I see they haven't killed you yet. Your ancestors must be very strong," she commented.

"It was luck and skill," he responded. He looked down as his son came up to him.

"I've been practicing with my bow while you were gone," Qorchi spoke up.

"Good," the archer nodded, turning away. He was stopped in his tracks as his wife grabbed the back of his tunic.

"Not so fast, Bataar can spare you for a bit. My marriage bed has been lonely and you are going to do something about it right now. Qorchi, stay with Auntie tonight," she called as she dragged the infamous archer away.

_Nearby:_

"Ah, so sad, watch them go brother. It is always the way with return from war, but so many this time," Gaitan sighed, watching the women in the crowd leave for their mourning.

"Mind yourself," the bald brother spoke.

"What? It is no crime to comfort women in their time of need. I would say the Ger needs me now more than ever. A man of my great gifts…" Gaitan trailed off, smiling lecherously. He let out an oof as his twin elbowed him in the stomach.

"You are shameless, and as lustful as ever after a campaign,"

"There are no willing women on the trail. A real man never pays for it or takes it, the woman either is lured to his bed roll by charm, or he is dragged into her tent by his manly good looks," Gaitan grinned reminiscently. He shot a glare at Lasuluun as the man stalked off into the shadows, Batu grabbing his shoulder.

"Keep your sword sheathed, brother, you have a job to do," Batu reminded him. They both turned to the Han woman following behind them. She held the pelt tightly around herself, and partly over her head. The Wall crossing seemed to have broken something, but not all the will was gone though; her eyes had steel if not her stride anymore.

"What, can't you watch her? You never have any plans Batu," Gaitan griped, watching a lovely Hun woman with silver beads in her hair beat a hasty retreat before ducking into a tent. His brother grabbed his head, turning it to face him.

"You've been minding her, so why not continue what the Shan Yu says? If you need to blame someone, blame yourself," Batu told him sternly.

"Batu, Gaitan!" Qorchi called out as he ran up to the men.

"Well if it isn't the next great archer," Gaitan laughed, turning to face the boy, crossing his massive arms.

"Well met, young Qorchi, is your mother well?" Batu asked.

"She is. I think she is angry with father, she sent me to Auntie's for the night," Qorchi told them, dropping his voice to a whisper. The two large men exchanged knowing looks and shared a smile.

"He'll be alright, though don't be surprised if he has a limp in the morning," Batu chuckled.

"Aye, the spear wives are a wild lot. I would know," Gaitan grinned.

"Really, I thought women liked you?" Qorchi frowned. Then he noticed the small figure standing behind the two warriors and took a few steps to see who it was. His eyes widened as he saw an exotic woman looking casually at him from under a rough deer cloak.

"Gaitan, did you steal a wife?" Qorchi asked as the brothers realized what he was looking at.

"Wha! ? I, well… she isn't," Gaitan stuttered. The remaining crowd drew in, taking notice of what as going on, much to the raven-haired twins' worry.

"No, she is the Shan Yu's plunder," Batu broke in sternly. That sent ripples through the crowd, with them both noticing some known gossips edging away. The brothers exchanged a look before Gaitan lightly grabbed the girl's shoulder and led her into the Ger.

X X X

Mulan sat off to the side from the feast that was taking place as the strange looking Hun priest ranted in their language before a bon fire. She was away from the fires but not in the dark, a bowl of stew sitting between her crossed legs. Cri-kee leapt down from her makeshift shawl to perch on the bowl's edge, sniffing the stew. Mushu scampered over her leg to tilt and sip from the bowl.

"Not poison, we good," Mushu announced, giving her a thumbs up. She ignored him, staring at the darkened encampment around her. She was a bit puzzled by the set up.

This was strangely… domestic; strange, but it didn't look like a Hun war-camp. There were actually families with elders and everything. Weren't they supposed to ride around the north raping or taking boys as taxes of some kind to keep their armies strong?

The banter and occasional laughter rising from nearby was making her angry. She was certain at last some it was directed towards her. She couldn't see the Shan Yu; probably seated on a throne somewhere with a harem serving him. Mulan wondered how far they were from his palace.

She picked up her bowl of stew, held it to the side, and poured it onto the ground.

"Baby girl?" Mushu asked. She didn't respond even when he started tugging on a sleeve. She just stared out into the darkness.

X X X

It was a strange feast for most of the Ger. Defeat was a strange and bitter dish to them. Before there had always been the glory of victory to soothe wounds, however great the price. Now there wasn't even that, as the faces of the dead seemed to loom out of the crowd.

Bataar was no object to blame though. A dangerous air flicked bout him, like an angered horse daring someone to try and mount it. Or perhaps the lone wolf snapping at all who drew near? He sat at his honored place among them, tearing meat off the bone without savagery but a certain air that was more wild than usual.

Yet, despite his foul mood his reserve remained intact. As ever leading by example, even amidst the awkwardness they aspired to seize some kind of normalcy from the night and bit-by-bit it became less fabricated. This celebration was not for them anyway, it was for the fallen, and to let it fall to pieces would be an insult to their sacrifice.

X X X

Qorchi grabbed a piece of roast goat from the mat and tore into it. The juice dribbled down his chin and he licked it up. He sat by his aunt, elegant even as age made its first inroads with silver adoring her braids. Turning, he looked to the royal fire.

There sat his father at the Shan Yu's right hand with Shirchin at his left. As his father's wife, his mother could claim a place at the mats ringing the fire and the laid out food between them and the flames. She needed no such extension; alone among the women in the Ger she claimed her place in that company in her own right.

She was in linen finery rarely seen, a geometric pattern of blue on white and many rings worked into her hair and clothes sparkling in the light. His father displayed far less wealth, only doing so at his wife's insistence. The twins were shirtless as ever; bands of gold decorated their arms instead as Gaitan boasted of some deed or other while his brother rolled his eyes. Lasuluun seemed folded in on himself, his own rings spits of light on a darkened frame, off even for the loner. Shirchin was unadorned, wearing plain warrior clothes like Bataar himself.

The boy watched as a pot was passed by the wolf-eyed ruler around the circle, the fire making his eyes come alive like a spirit. Suren was perched on his right shoulder, occasionally fed pieces of the meat from his master's share.

It sent chills down the boy's spine. He was not worthy of sharing that company. But he would be someday; he would sit by his father's side a proven man among men, worthy of notice.

But for now, food!

His aunt laughed her light and lilting laugh as he tore into the meal without the reserve that normally tried to assert over him. The other adults watched him, and the other children who seemed untouched by the disaster. Even more than wise from the Shaman's words, this seemed an assurance life would go on.

_Some Time Later:_

A group of boys wandered from their places, mothers and elders noting their departure, some frowning, but more wistfully recalling their own youthful escapes.

Their quarry presented itself soon enough. The Han woman, the Shan Yu's slave. He had never taken a slave before, therefore since his reign began no one had in the Ger. They had seen Han before, but those were distant, in the possession of other Ger. This one was right here, and it was a woman.

"I hear if you cut a Han woman she bleeds milk," one of their number whispered.

"They're also supposed to be pale like ghosts," another spoke up.

"But with red lips. They're pale because they don't have enough blood, so their lips get stained drinking from Han men. That's why they can't fight, otherwise the Han would run out of men," Qorchi carried on the topic.

"Her lips aren't red, and she's not pale," an older boy haughtily commented. He stroke a nonexistent mustache as the others conceded the truth of his statement. Nonetheless, he took a hasty step back with the rest when she sat bolt straight and held out a leg, shaking it. Still not making a peep even as she looked at her legging irritably.

'A bug crawl up her leg?' Qorchi wondered.

"Well?" the taller boy asked.

"Well what?" Qorchi answered, still watching the Han woman.

"No one knows her name, you ask," he ordered, shoving him forward.

"Well…" he weakly protested. Then he noticed her stroking the palm of her own hand. That was strange; curiosity getting the better of him, he walked away from the group towards the strange woman.

A few paces away her head turned up, and he found himself looking into a pair of hard dark eyes. He took a step back, and looked back over his shoulder; he paid no mind to the grinning boys waiting for him to fail. He picked out his father's back at the Shan Yu's circle.

Squaring shoulders, he turned back and walked up to the frowning woman. He couldn't hold that gaze, but looking down he saw what she was holding.

"A bug?" it slipped out. The purple insect made a strange and not unpleasant sound. He could swear it was angry at the remark as it hopped around her hand. Then it was out of sight as she cupped her hands over it and regarded him suspiciously.

"Your…" he spoke in Han but couldn't recall the word for pet. She nodded, to his confusion. Then he realized she was confirming it was hers and her action made sense.

"Not… taking," he told her, hoping he was getting it right. She still frowned, but her eyes seemed to soften some and she opened her hands. The bug hopped up her arm and out of sight about her neck.

He heard someone walking up and saw Batu arriving, not noticing the man's attention was on the woman.

"What is your name?" he asked, feeling emboldened. She looked away and accepted a bowl of stew from the bald giant. Qorchi repeated the question, and still got no response. His frown was replaced with shock as she poured her stew on the ground.

"Is she dumb?" Qorchi asked. The man roared with laughter and he heard a gagging sound from the woman. She was truly glaring at him now, getting to her feet.

He had said that part in Han, he realized, as ice plopped into his stomach.

"Run," Batu advised. He took it, fleeing for his precious blood; leaving her to look after him in puzzlement as the boys and other nearby Huns laughed at the scene.

_Morning:_

"Mulan? Mulaaan?" a voice called. Her eyes fluttered open and she got a face full of Mushu.

"Alright, that's it, up and at it, we need to do some strategizing," the little dragon proclaimed, backing up a step. She rolled away from him, looking around casually; she remembered being led to a tent and passing out on a bedroll. Surprisingly she was alone. It was clearly made for one, next to some tents she had seen here, but roomier than her tent in the army had been.

Mushu jumped onto her shoulder, frowning, before clapping his claws together.

"Okay, now that we got some privacy, it's time to start talking about our plan to get out of Dodge," Mushu insisted. She rolled onto her stomach, leaving him to scamper onto her back.

"Excuse me? What is this?

"Oh, noooo. Oh no, no, no, no! You are not giving up on me Mulan!

"So, we're alone in the Hun lands with wilderness, also infested by Huns, and with the Great Wall between us and home. That doesn't make it hopeless!" he insisted. She lifted her head to glare at him, before pulling the goat pelt blanket over her head.

"Okay, it ain't good, but that's not stopped you yet," he admitted.

"…" was her only answer.

"Oh, come on! TALK TO ME!" he demanded, poking her covered form.

Cri-kee let out some warning chirps from peeking out the flaps, and Mushu glanced around for a hiding place. Finding none, the dragon dove under the tent wall and out of sight.

"Alright, up with the sun, let you sleep in because that must have been a bad walk for ya," Oyunbileg announced, walking into the tent with a bag in hand and a skin under arm. She squinted at the rolled up form on the floor before grinning.

"This won't end well," Mushu muttered, watching the Hun woman put her luggage down and creep up to Mulan's sleeping form. He prepared to do something drastic, what exactly he did not know, but drastic it would be. Then the one eyed woman grabbed edges of the blanket and gave a sharp tug, whirling on her feet. Mulan was set rolling from the blanket while it wrapped around the now laughing woman.

"Ha, I _can_ do it to adults, Sheira owes me a goat! Good morning Maral, you gave my son quite the fight last night. And now here I am waking you up like him, hmm, think there's a connection," Oyunbileg laughed, pulling the blanket off and folding it in her hands.

"Well, Gaitan is hung over, and while he will be punished for neglecting his duties, someone has to get you settled. According to the Shan Yu, that's me. So here's breakfast, and here's decency," the Hun explained, pointing to the bag and skin. Next she pulled out a bundle and tossed it in front of the Chinese girl. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the Hun clothing she pulled out from the bundle.

"Your deer hide is being cut into a proper cloak, you'll get it back later Maral," she explained as Mulan realized her old clothing had been taken at some point. She fixed a puzzled look on the warrior, who frowned before seeming to realize something.

"No one seems to know your name, and you seem to not be talking either. So I've given you a new name, Maral, the deer," Oyunbileg answered with a wry grin. Mulan scowled at her, and the grin just got wider.

"Good, silent but not entirely broken. If you don't like it, better speak up soon, or it may stick," the Hun answered playfully.

"…" Mulan watched her.

"Alright, then. Get dressed; it's time to work, so unless you want to do chores underdressed…" she let it hang in the air before ducking back out.

Shortly, Mulan emerged, tying the hide belt on the Hun tunic and trousers. Apparently their women and men dressed similarly.

"Sloppy, but no worse than my boy does on a lazy day. Sorry, but most weren't interested in donating to your wardrobe, luckily a spear wife about your size owed me favor. Follow," she commanded. Mulan walked after, trying to adjust the drab Hun clothes as she started to catch some stares.

The Ger was waking up, with some men riding in while others rode out. Fires were being stirred, and she saw a one armed man with a shaved head and silver mustache butchering a horse while a pair of young boys watched. She turned away sharply, feeling queasy when he pulled out a length of intestines. She decided to focus on what the other woman was saying.

"Our Shan Yu admits he doesn't really have need of a slave. Which makes us all curious why he brought one back. But more importantly, he says you're free for camp duties, which means another set of hands.

"From all I've heard, Han women are fairly worthless and stupid. But I have never been south either," Oyunbileg remarked. She could feel the glare on her back, but her husband did worse on a daily basis, making it seem cute to her.

"So what you'll be doing is helping with the laundry. Ah yes, nothing to get you going in the morning like the smell of wet goat, sweat, and the various body fluids," the one eyed Hun recounted wistfully. They walked into the perimeter of the Ger where a half circle of wooden tubs was laid out, a Hun woman with braided hair working each one with a stack of clothes next to the tubs. They were mostly old women with silver braids and deep lined faces, or girls younger than Mulan.

Mulan looked to the sole vacant tub and the pile towering over it. Three times the size of the next largest pile she noticed.

"I see they decided you'd have your work cut out for you. Then again, this is your only duty for now so I guess it can take as long as it needs. Get to it.

"Oh, and if you decide to ruin the clothes out of spite, you can always have dung duty with the naughty boys!" Oyunbileg called over her shoulder as she walked off.

Mulan sighed, looking at the pile. Feeling something she noticed the Hun women were watching her. The girls went back to work, sending fleeting looks, while the Elders kept watching unabashed before whispering to their neighbors and going back to scrubbing.

She pulled a piece of cloth out of the pile with a snap, revealing a pair of gray trousers that smelled like the large man they came from had worn them for a week straight. Wrinkling her nose, she tossed it into the tub, feeling the odor rising around her.

A sharp cry sent her eyes to the top of the pile; the Shan Yu's hawk perched up there, regarding her with a single suspicious eye.

Pulling off another piece of clothing, she rolled it into a ball.

"Not a good idea, there's something mystic about that bird, I'm sure of it," Mushu whispered from under her collar. Frowning, she tossed the ball into the tub underhand. She rammed that same hand into the pile up to her elbow and closed her fist on as much as she could.

She pulled the center towards herself as violently as she could, letting the pile fall on top of and then around her. Pulling a tunic off her head, she looked around to see the hawk had moved to the top of a tent, looking displeased.

Smiling at the bird of prey, she walked over to the wood tub and began to scrub the clothes.

**X X X X X X**

1). _Eadol: a shamanic charm meant to house pacts with spirits. Usually carved from bone._

2). _Several Asian horse cultures ceremonially cracked horse skulls to tell the future._

3). _An alcoholic beverage made by fermenting mare milk._

**Author's Note:**

Okay, I think we need to talk.

Most of my reviewers have been lovely as normal, but this story seems to be drawing a trend. I do not update stories in a row typically, so that means it will likely be months between updates. This is normal for me as a writer on this site; it does not mean the story in question is being canceled or some such.

In fact, one story I am trying to update has been excluded for many months due to demands on other stories, and the beta for it having to withdraw for RL reasons.

And while you are all entitled to your opinion, and I would rather hear it than silence, I expect some common courtesy. This story has attracted the very first review I have deleted. This is, as is usually the case, a few punks as opposed to a composed majority.

I have several stories demanding my attention and this one is a newcomer and thus is not my highest priority, regardless of popularity. My updating is based on both what my muse is feeling drawn to and how long since I last updated something.

In the interest of fairness, I have added a new section to the bottom of my profile. This update section will be regularly changed to tell what I am currently working on and possibly what is in the line up.

Finally, if you ask question in anonymous reviews I cannot send you a reply like I can with a registered reviewer. Just saying.

Well, now that we have cleared the air, I wish you all long days and pleasant nights.


	4. Direction

Disclaimer: _I do not own _Mulan_, I would not have been able to make I so cool without breaking out of the Disney specifications._

_Betaed by: _Zim'smostloyalservant

* * *

**Direction**

Mulan tossed in her tent, pulling the hide blanket tighter around her. She could still smell the goats from earlier, wrinkling her nose at the thought. She somehow doubted doing her own laundry would get the smell out. Not that it mattered, as it seemed to be the task they had picked for her.

Mainly because no one else wanted to stand around and hit goats with a stick till they went the right way. Not that she found the task enthralling, though a bit therapeutic with a little imagination.

She barely caught the sound of the tent flap being pulled back. She tensed before realizing with confusion it was being pulled quietly; the Huns _always_ barged in.

"Mulan?" a strong refined voice whispered. She sprang into a sitting position, gaping at the sight. It was dark, but with the flap pulled back she could make him out in the moonlight.

"Shang," she uttered, stunned. She thought he smiled before grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet. Training took over, her fatigue forgotten, finding her feet under her. The sounds and sights of fire kicked up past the threshold and she heard steel on steel. Armored men dashed about as the Hun camp was lit up, tents ablaze.

"And perfect," Shang stated at the sound of thundering hooves. They had loosed the Hun's horses!

"Ah yeah! Pretty boy to the rescue, I take back all the bad things I wrote about you in my diary!" Muhsu cheered, wrapping around her shoulders. A familiar whiny came from the dark as they won free from the tents and a black stallion emerged from the night.

"Khan!" she cried, joyously rushing ahead to hug her horse's neck.

"He brought us to you, now let's go home," Shang said, lifting her up and putting her into the waiting saddle. Khan reared under her and she almost wept in relief at the feel of him under her.

"Ping! You didn't think we would leave you high and dry did, ya! ?" Yoa asked, stepping up to slap her leg. He slapped it again, and again.

"Yoa stop-

"That?" Mulan yawned, rolling over. She blinked in confusion; how did she get on the ground, did she fall off Khan?

"Up Maral, first the wash, then the goats," Gaitan declared as he loomed over her. She was lying in her tent, sunlight and the sounds of the Hun camp filtering in around her.

The Hun raised an eyebrow as the Han woman stared at him like he had sprouted another head. Leaving her breakfast in the usual place, he stepped out to let her gather herself.

As he waited he thought he heard crying, but couldn't be sure. It was no business of his how she dealt with her situation, he reminded himself.

XXX

Mulan was chewing the last of the meager breakfast as she pulled the tent flap aside. The one eyed Hun woman was talking with Gaitan… make that arguing on her doorstep in the Hun tongue. It broke off as the other woman saw her and grinned.

"Ah, Maral, still eating I see. I knew tying you up and feeding you would break that little bit of annoyance," the woman congratulated herself in Chinese. Mulan glared at her but that only seemed to perk the Hun up more.

"You are a hard one to pin down – one moment you're a kicked dog, then you're ready to shove a spear in me," the woman chuckled, running a finger over her eyepatch. Mulan noticed the boy from the feast lurking behind the woman; he had been hanging around, she'd noticed since that first day.

"You already know Qorchi, my son. Gaitan is going to be watching him for me, while he watches you," Oyunbileg stated.

"I never agreed, unload your boy on someone else," Gaitan objected, crossing his massive arms.

"Who? Ulaan is discussing the Summit, and Shirchin's riding out with me," she demanded.

"What about Batu, he never has anything going on. Or anyone else?" the man insisted.

"Choeten has staked a certain claim on his time. As for everyone else, I didn't ask them because I don't need to. Because you are watching my son while I'm gone. Who knows, maybe showing some responsibility will help you get women," she winked at the bare-chested Hun. He rolled his eyes but made no further objections, and the one eyed woman smiled.

"I'm off then. Qorchi, if you can get her to say a sentence I'll get you something good," the spear wife called as she walked off.

"Well that laundry isn't going to do itself," Gaitan sighed as Qorchi moved to stand a bit closer to Mulan than was polite.

Mulan was starting to prefer when he feared her. Now she was just the most interesting thing around.

XXX

The pile of laundry seemed smaller. Maybe she was actually making headway? More likely she was just getting used to it, she thought.

Mulan tossed the tunic to a girl who ran off to hang it up to dry. Grabbing a rag, she dried herself and stepped back from the tub; the air was too chilled to do this without break, and she had picked the pattern up from the Hun women. Speaking of which, she noticed the young women shooting her glares. That had become an annoyance; it wasn't like she had chosen to be here. They looked somewhere else or turned to whispering among themselves when she gave them her attention.

They didn't have to whisper when she didn't speak their language, fools.

Strangely, the older women did not seem to share the scorn. If anything, they looked… amused.

One good thing about having Gaitan around was the time he didn't spend watching her. That time he spent distracting the young women, with what she assumed was flirting; foreign tongue or not, there was only so many meanings a hand to the rear could have.

No, he had assigned the boy Qorchi to watch her. And watch he did, sitting next to her, staring with a look of determination she would find cute under other circumstances. Okay, it _was_ cute, but he was still a Hun.

As it was, the boy and the womanizer weren't her real guards. The hawk was still perched atop a tent, watching her with intense disinterest. She would like to know how you could be both those at the same time.

As if she could make a break for it with so many Hun men lurking about. They were all young men, near an age of her. They were subtler than the women; if they got too close, the old women would run them off, snapping wet clothes at them.

They must have known what she had done and wanted either vengeance or glory, she had concluded.

"Just look at them, ogling that Han girl," one of the young washerwomen hissed.

"I don't see the big deal," another chimed in.

"She's exotic, and they're dumb," one wrung out a tunic excessively.

"What's exotic? She's just a slave, and she can't even talk properly," the first girl hissed.

"Well, nothing will come of it – even without Gaitan, the young dogs know better than to sniff too close to the Shan-Yu's bitch," an older woman broke in from a few tubs down.

"That's a lie – Bataar wouldn't take a slave to bed!" one of the girls shrieked. The older woman was unimpressed.

"Men don't plunder women just to wash their clothes, in my experience," she shrugged.

"I don't know, he keeps her in her own tent. And I've never heard of him being ruled by lust like Gaitan or Lasuluun," a vey wrinkled woman remarked, walking by the line up.

"Hey, don't lump me in with him!" Gaitan protested, turning away from a blushing girl. The elder stopped and pat his chest with the back of her hand.

"Don't take offense; you both might be lustful, but there is a right way and wrong way to do everything. You're getting too old for those games, but you do it like a proper scoundrel – perhaps you'd care to demonstrate?" she asked, leaning onto him.

Gaitan backpedaled so fast he hit a tub and almost fell into it. The women laughed as he harrumphed, flustered. Then the boys began to chuckle and he turned a glare on them that quieted them down.

Mulan cracked a smile at the sight; the bit with the old woman required no translation. Still, it would really be nice if she spoke the Hun tongue.

"They're gossiping about you," Qorchi stated. She looked to where the boy sat next to her tub watching her.

"…" She looked at him.

"My mum says never to repeat gossip, only makes it worse," he answered the unasked question. Mulan smacked her face.

"Shirchin says you're not a mute, so why don't you talk? Are you scared? I've heard a man once got scared enough he forgot how to talk. Or did your voice break? I've heard about voices cracking, so I guess they can break too," he began to prattle on again.

Mulan grimaced; she was certain this was some kind of roundabout torture. She couldn't even fantasize about hitting him because he was just a kid. A Hun kid yes, but still just a kid. Why couldn't he be some feral carrion eating "child of the horde" like she'd expected? That would be easier to deal with!

"-and those guys won't do anything," she caught the tail end of his latest tangent and snapped her attention back to the boy. He was surprised at her attention, and then she pointed at the nearest group of boys with a demanding expression.

She realized she had made a mistake when he grinned like a cat.

"I could tell you why they are here. But maybe I want you to ask me with words first," he grinned.

Like Hell! She was not going to be forced to haggle with a child; that was one humiliation she could do without, thank you very much.

The look she gave him made him realize he might have gone too far. She stood up and pointed at him with such force he took a step back; then she pointed at the tub, and wrung out a pair of trousers, hard.

Qorchi gulped.

Mushu peered from under the edge of Mulan's tent, watching as the creepy archer from the road made his way past, into Big and Scary's tent. That shaman was in there too; he could smell that distinct magic after scent… or maybe the old guy needed a bath. Either way, something was going down. And this time there was no hawk to cramp his style.

"I'm on point Cri-Kee, let's go!" Mushu commanded as he scampered out from cover, hurrying along low to the ground over the relatively short distance. Cri-Kee hopped along beside him, but not as quick as he could have. Mushu saw this and suppressed unease. This northern climate was not agreeing with his buddy.

Hopefully this little bit of recon would see them on their way south, he thought as they reached Shan-Yu's tent. Using his claws to cut a small half circle, he crawled inside and took cover. The most opportune being a rolled up bedroll.

"Word is going around like you wanted. We'll be ready to depart for the Hill of Eight Bears tomorrow," Ulaan spoke up. The three Huns sat around an unlit fire pit, sipping from skins.

"Good," Shan-Yu remarked.

"I sent out signs to the needed shamans to spread the word once you were north of the Wall. You've kept them waiting," Old Moon pointed out.

"Not all of them; The Moon Shadow will take his time, and others have farther to travel," Shan-Yu shrugged.

"He won't come, he hates these kind of things. Which means we have to deal with that fool brother of his. Some men send brothers they can rely on to represent them, he sends the brother he doesn't want around to get rid of him," Old Moon griped.

"Fools are easier to deal with," Ulaan pointed out.

"Exactly; I need to remind them that this defeat does not change my standing in the Confederation," Bataar agreed.

"It doesn't? Your Ger is nearly crippled and you have lost all those elite troops they gave you. You're not an Emperor; they will demand concessions. A bride," Old Moon pressed, poking Bataar in the chest with his staff.

"Fine, let them make something of which daughter I choose, it changes nothing in my ties to them," he grunted.

"You should be more considerate! The only reason you don't have to worry much is you lack an heir as another option for them," Old Moon reprimanded him.

"The King of the Left is next in line," Ulaan reminded them. Old Moon took a swig from his flask while Bataar rolled his eyes.

"Unegan is too much of a coward to challenge me," he stated.

"Sire, he is not the boy you spared after the Battle of the Mist. He leads a tribe of his own and has earned no small fame for his skill with that foreign weapon of his. I have heard even some of our youths call him Unegan the Wind Scythe," Ulaan pressed.

"Scythe, a tool for Han farmers. It suits that pride-less weakling; crops fight back about as well as his supposed conquests," the Shan-Yu said before sipping his own kusmiss.

"Hmm, you underestimate him, but you're right. The Circle will never support your uncle's son, whatever you do. But be cautious; his name means fox, and what he lacks in boldness he makes up for in cunning trickery.

"Now let's talk brides. Coyot, the King of the Right, is the strongest after you and has plenty of daughters. The older ones have proven fertile and he still has one unpromised," Old Moon said.

"Has she even had her blood?" Bataar demanded, looking sour.

"Yes, not that it matters. He dotes on his daughters and won't willingly give one up to a man like you. Politely refuse when its proposed and you might be able to get his support," Old Moon pressed. Ulaan spoke up while the shaman took a deep drink from his liquor.

"The next would be Barago the Defiant. He'll be keen to have royal great-grandchildren. His seed makes weak women though, or is that what you desire?" Ulaan asked.

Mushu frowned thoughtfully at the exchange before withdrawing. Cri-Kee looked at the wrinkled shaman a moment longer before following Mushu out.

XXX

"I'm… not… telling!" Qorchi shouted out as he braced against the edge of the tub. Laundry forgotten, Mulan had a firm grip on his shoulders and was slowly pressing him down towards the water.

"Have mercy, I just had a bath three weeks ago!" the boy pleaded. She was not moved.

"Gaitan, shouldn't you do something about that?" a pretty Hun woman remarked as the big man worked his charm.

"Nah, it's important for any aspiring lady's man to know there are consequences to teasing too far," the big man answered.

"Is that what you will tell Oyunbileg when she gets back with Shirchin?" the woman pressed. This took him aback; frowning, he walked over to where Qorchi's impending wet doom was drawing near.

"The boys think you're exotic. They came to ogle you," Gaitan told her back. Mulan released her quarry, turning on her heels and looking at the man, stunned. Qorchi took the opportunity to flee into the ranks of young men hovering around the washing area.

Mulan numbly pointed at her chest. Gaitan raised an eyebrow at her shocked surprise.

"Yes, you. Most of them haven't seen a Han woman before; you're not that bad looking either. If they weren't worried the Shan-Yu was staking a claim, you'd probably be getting some tokens from the dumber ones," he elaborated. He looked over to the young men who had been listening, who dispersed back to whatever they were supposed to be doing.

Mulan blushed at the thought. Huns were paying attention to her like that? ! It was ridiculous; back home she had never been approached for anything. She had been able to pass for a MAN!

Face red, she turned away from the snickers from the Hun women, no doubt thinking her a fool for not guessing. Going back to her tub, she grabbed another piece of clothing, only for Mushu's head to pop out of the suds.

"Mulan! Something's going down," he whispered loudly. Mulan looked around, seeing Gaitan talking to the archer while the women went back to work.

"What?" she whispered, leaning down to the tub.

"You're talking again? That's great!" Mushu cheered. She pinched his too loud mouth shut a moment before letting it go.

"I overheard the shaman, Big Scary, and the archer guy talking. It sounded important," he reported.

"What did they say?" she pressed.

"Beats me, I don't speak Hun," Mushu shrugged his scrawny shoulders. Mulan glared at him.

"Are you talking… to the laundry?" Gaitan asked. Mulan dunked Mushu under the water, startled bubbles rising among the suds. She stayed kneeling, hoping to look innocent as the large man watched her dubiously.

"Do you know how to break down your tent? The Ger moves at first light for the Hill of Eight Bears," Gaitan said.

Mulan almost nodded, then stopped. She couldn't afford to be stubborn and sabotage herself; Mushu could only help her so much. She spoke.

"Is that the Shan-Yu's palace?" she asked.

She had expected him to show some surprise when she voluntarily talked again. What she didn't expect for him to roar with laughter after his swift recovery. The laundry women called out to him in their tongue, and he answered likewise. They joined in the laughter and Mulan reddened, finding herself once again in the familiar position of being mockingly laughed at. She could have stayed in her village for that!

"So, no?" she demanded of the barbarian.

"Ha! Nowhere! There is no palace. A Shan-Yu who does not ride with his people is no true Shan-Yu," he barked, amused.

"So where does he live?" she pressed, pride spurring her on.

"Well you seem to be back on your horse, Maral.

"Why do you ask? You've been living next to it," he said pointing in the direction of her tent, and the Shan-Yu's.

What? ! She could see it like Shang's tent in the camp, temporary for being on the move. But _that _was the _home_ of the most feared man in all of Asia! ? Her father's house was more impressive.

Her shock must have showed on her face, as Gaitan roared anew at her expression.

"The palace! Bahahaha! Oh the Han, so stupid," he shook his head, walking off. Mulan glared at his back, willing it to burst into flame like her face seemed on the brink of doing. Then she noticed something scratching at her hand. She pulled Mushu back out of the tub. The little dragon took a huge breath.

"I LIVE!" he shouted joyously. Gaitan turned his head at the noise; Mulan dunked the dragon again. He looked at her oddly and she gave a hopefully innocent smile. He glanced at the still large pile of laundry.

"Since you seem more interested in talking to laundry than washing it, dry up and get to your spot with the goatherds," he ordered. Without another word, he walked to the nearest group of pretty women.

Pulling the spluttering dragon out and stuffing him under her tunic swiftly, Mulan walked away from the gossiping Huns. She frowned, hearing Gaitan laugh "The Palace!" again.

Maybe staying a mute would have been a good idea?

XXX

Old Moon was walking the grasses alone, trying to kick them from the ground every third hobbled step.

"Unbelievable! Ask the man to pick a bride and he treats it like a grim task! It's getting some cushion in the sack, not a tooth being pulled! Bah, in my day it was harder to tell a Shan-Yu he _couldn't_ have a young woman!"

He looked skyward, glaring at the blue expanse.

"Well, a little help? A weak wife won't turn that beast around, and a schemer will just make him worse!

"...

"Are you listening? !" he demanded. A blob of bird poop landed on his bad eye.

"Cheeky spirits; don't make me come up there! Honestly, in my day when you asked the spirits for something they didn't give you crap. Why, I knew this bear spirit with a-" he ranted, wiping his face as he ascended a hill. Reaching the crest he stopped, seeing what was on the other side.

It was the Han girl the people had christened Maral. Apparently Gaitan had put her in charge of some goats, though she wasn't acting like a goatherd at the moment.

The girl was going through stances with her herder's staff. Her movements were conservative but smooth with the ease of practice. A Han training exercise; the shaman recalled old battles where he had seen Han elite strike down fully armed warriors with those fancy stick tricks of theirs.

Sure enough, the exercise culminated with her leaping into the air with a kick that might knock a rider from his horse.

But he saw it fail at its apex and she fell to the ground with a cry.

Maral sat on the grasses, rubbing her rear with one hand and pressing the other to her apparently not quite healed wound. Her expression was sour enough it seemed to amuse the nearest goat.

The animal's mocking bleats were cut short as the girl scoped up her staff and conked it lightly on the head.

Frowning, Mulan glanced up the hill, still vacant. She could have sworn for a moment she was being watched.

Looking back to the herd, she saw nearly all the goats were watching her. That answered that question.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded. Getting back to her feet, she rapped the butt of her staff against a rock. That got the goats back to work grazing.

She worried it might drive her crazy having to deal with all these smelly, hair, mannerless beasts. The goats weren't exactly good company either.

Just out of sight on the other side of the hill, Old Moon sat, taking a long pull from his kusmiss skin.

"Should have known; after all, even with luck no weakling would beat Bataar. The light of the sun by its nature can't be extinguished; dimmed or obstructed certainly. Give it some time though, and it will flare anew.

"Stubborn girl to train when it could aggravate that wound. Brave or stupid too – lots of bad questions if the wrong Hun spotted her at it.

"Hmm; brave, stubborn, and stupid. Heh," Old Moon grinned, pulling nearly all his wrinkles along with the gesture.

Getting up, leaning heavily on his staff, he began to hurry as best he could back to the Ger. This might be his best idea since cheese!

Who said forgetfulness never did anyone any good?

XXX

Mulan held the staff across her shoulders and against the back of her neck as the goats returned to their pen. The last goat, a one eyed old granny with big horns, stopped to give her a mutinous look.

"Oyunbileg," she threatened, pulling the staff down to tap against her palm. The goat gave a cry at her that could only be an insult before trundling in. Mulan kicked the gate shut after the irritable creature she had named after one of her captors.

The other goatherds were bringing in some of the herds; the one for the next pen over, a one armed middle-aged man, gave her a nod. She returned it without thinking. Realizing what she had done, she turned and hastily walked off into the assemblage of tents.

She couldn't afford to let her guard down. Mulan remembered the river and shuddered. Her wounds were healing well, but that would mean little if the Shan-Yu woke up one day and gave his men permission to rape her.

The boys this morning were a reminder of that. She had been stupid enough that for a moment she thought of them like the boys back home staring after the neighbor girls. These weren't just men, these were Huns.

She had to remember that. She had to remember an entire village slaughtered, the doll in the ruins with no little girl left to hold it.

That simple nod of acknowledgement had scuffed a line she needed to keep clear.

Taking a deep breath she looked around, noting the sounds of the tent town at sunset were different from usual. Wagons were being loaded up for the morning's departure, and horses tended to more than normal. She even saw several tents being broken down, their owners, she supposed, intending to rough the short night before their early morning.

She would just break down her tent in the morning. She wasn't about to volunteer any discomfort on behalf of her captors' schedule.

"Maral, Maral! You've gotta see!" a familiar voice called out to her. Mulan stopped, letting out a sigh. This was one problem she couldn't solve by hitting it with a stick. Qorchi ran up to her, positively beaming with excitement, grabbing her free hand he made to drag her along.

It was too long a day to scare him off again, and she was sure that blasted bird was watching her again, so she let him lead her on.

Soon enough, the eager lad had towed her to the open space intruding into the encampment like a parade ground, where a crowd of Huns had gathered. They were speaking excitably in their own language.

She wondered what got them excited, a public execution?

Oddly enough the crowd made way for the boy and her, so she soon saw what the fuss was about.

Oyunbileg and the helmed Hun from before were standing proudly before a horse tied to a stake in the parade ground. And what a horse!

It was pure white, like the moon. And not old – it was young, not even into its prime yet, a mane wild and untamed._ It_was wild and untamed, she realized as it struggled against the rope that bound it. It jerked its head, looking at the crowd, fury and indignation filling those dark eyes.

For a moment Mulan could have sworn she saw her own face reflected in them, then the spell was broken as it returned to struggling against its bindings.

Their murmuring died down and she saw Shan-Yu emerge from the crowd. He walked to stand between the two Huns, looking at the mare, his back to the crowd.

He turned, and seized their hands, holding them high.

Her jaw dropped as he called out something in Hun; judging by the roar of approval from the crowd, he was not condemning them.

"He says it's a mount worthy of a chieftain. Once again they have proven a great wrangling team," Qorchi supplied. She looked to him frowning; had she been that obvious? Looking back to the horse, while the two wranglers walked off together, Shan-Yu was getting closer to the horse, which bared her teeth at him.

"A gift for him?" she asked.

"You do talk! Awesome! Was your voice always scratchy like that?" the boy exclaimed before looking thoughtful. She gave him her "or else" face, and he took a step back, gulping.

"Uh, no. The Shan-Yu never accepts mounts as gifts; he always gets a horse himself. He's really, really good with horses," the boy answered. He looked back to the mare and she looked with him.

The barbarian was stroking the mare's neck as it licked something from the palm of his other hand.

"How did…?" she stuttered, before cutting herself off.

"_Reaaally_ good with the horses," Qorchi grinned.

XXX

Slaves walk; that was the lesson of the day for Mulan.

She had known the camp was moving, but hadn't fully appreciated what that meant. Everything that made up the camp had been packed up, onto backs, into wagons, on packhorses, and whatever else would carry a load.

These people really did live on the move. She had looked back at the campsite as they left it behind and it was stripped of everything but the waste piles beyond the still visible circles of habitation.

A wagon Ger was rolling along next to her. She had seen children and elders unfit to ride take up habitation in the wheel mounted tents. The shaman's tent had been loaded up on one of the wagons and even now she caught the sight of a thin plum of smoke rising to the left, marking its location.

The chafe of the Huns rode in bare wagons; cripples without glory and cowards who tended to share her duties at times.

The bulk, though, had horses. Men and women, from youths to those elderly but still strong and sure with their mounts.

Grim warriors clearly seasoned in battle rode alongside boastful youths, who occasionally pealed off out of sight. Women riding along with men, chatting, or in their own groups, sometimes in a near likeness to a classic gossip cluster.

She saw mothers and fathers sharing saddles with children. Mulan had ended up behind a couple that had a daughter and son, apparently twins, mounted behind their respective parents. The two were tossing a hide ball between them. The boy's toss went short and the girl almost fell from her spot reaching for it.

The ball hit the ground and bounced to roll to Mulan's feet. Stopping, she looked at the ball then at the Huns. The girl looked at her with one expectant eye, twisted in her seat behind her mother.

Mulan heaved a heavy sigh and bent, scooping up the ball. In the same motion she threw it under hand; the arc was true and the little girl caught it with a squeal.

"Ah, you're such a soft touch," Mushu's voice came out of the pack on her back. She didn't have much but they expected her to carry her folded up tent on her back. Thankfully it looked like the thing was designed to be broken down like that.

Before the army it would have been difficult to even lift. If she saw Shang again when she got back to China she would have to give him a big thanks for making her strong enough to handle life among savages.

She didn't answer the dragon; the last thing she needed was the Huns thinking she was crazy.

Finding the noise too much at the moment, she veered her path toward the edge of the massive caravan. She idly wondered where Shan-Yu was. If she had to guess, he was either in his own mobile Ger scheming with his men, or riding at the front of the caravan.

She found herself leaning towards him having the wind in his face.

Reaching the edge of the caravan was surprisingly easy. There were more young Huns here, apparently taking advantage of a lack of chores to tire their mounts out by passing time amusing themselves with riding.

The warrior twins stood out in the more youthful surroundings at the very periphery, leading the white mare roped to their hulking new stallions. She was drawn to the magnificent creature, mindful not to get trampled by the eager young Huns.

The mare watched her approach; again, she could see herself in its eyes. Her hair had gotten longer though not so long as it had been. Her clothes were the Hun goat hides and her shape was framed by the pack on her back. It turned away in a huff.

Her step closer was turned away with a cry.

"Off now, Maral," Batu commanded, looking back at her. Scowling, she picked up her pace to be even with the bald Hun.

"I just want to look at the mare," she spoke up.

"You can look fine from over there. Horses are not for slaves, especially not Han; they are sacred," he declared solemnly.

"Especially an unclaimed prize as great as this one. It will be the Shan-Yu's gift to a chieftain, either repayment for old alliances or a bribe for new ones," Gaitan put in from his own steed.

"I know my way around a horse!" Mulan insisted.

"Bah! A Han might know a horse's head from its tail, but we Huns know our horses as we know our brothers. Now away with you," Batu spat, pointing back to the Ger.

Frowning, she turned her back and marched toward the press of the caravan. Some of the young Huns had dismounted to rest their horses, but they held the reins in their hands. That made their walking a world apart from hers.

She could still see that white mare as she returned to the creaking of wheels and steady rumble of hooves.

She hoped Khan was alright. Surely the Heavens had let at least him get home.

XXX

Feng, Emperor of China, once again found himself comparing the past to the present. He stood on an upraised platform set before an assembled army, knowing the capital loomed behind him.

It was too early for him in all honesty, but dramatics were a primary pillar to effective rule. These men were marching to war in his name; enduring the aches of old age to see them off was the least he could do.

Just how many times had he stood before young men like this?

In his youth it had been with much fire and vigor he had sent armies forth to subjugate more lands to his dominion. The world had seemed so much simpler then, stepping out of his father's shadow, and thoughtlessly walking across the bodies of his enemies towards a vague goal of enduring glory.

Then the Shan-Yu came to take everything he had built. All the work of his ancestors seemed doomed, and his only legacy that of failure as he pulled his warriors back to guard him, while his people burned.

He had failed, and it was only the heroism of better men that had saved him and countless others. He was Emperor, yet that man kneeling before him and asking for nothing made him feel small.

Where had they all gone? Where were the heroes? When had they all faded away, leaving only old frauds and children struggling with the weight of legacy to watch over the people?

Even the Great Wall, his new ambition to go to any length to keep the people safe, had proven an empty gesture. Not even doing the right thing and sending his forces out to meet the invaders had been enough.

How many had died for him and been killed for him in his life? Was his true legacy fields of graves extending over the horizon?

He was the Emperor, and whatever he felt or believed he must be the mountain for them. Even if his words tasted like lies.

"Sons of China! I called for you as I called for your brothers and fathers in days past. You have answered, and now stand poised to uphold the honor of the Middle Kingdom.

"While the Huns have been beaten back, lesser foes have risen anew to threaten our peace. The lords of the east see weakness in the Empire and make demands of the throne. They would dictate the course of the Middle Kingdom.

"The Throne is the central pillar of China; to undermine its power is to undermine China itself! Their shortsightedness and cowards' greed is unforgivable!

"This rebellion must be crushed swiftly and absolutely. China is the Middle Kingdom, the center from which all civilization spreads. If chaos consumes our land, so will all the word fall into darkness. To prevent that, no measure is too harsh.

"China is order, China is harmony, China is blessed most under the Heavens, and China is STRONG. You will remind the world of that fact, and peace shall be returned to the land.

"I am the Son of Heaven, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years. I absolve you of what must be done.

"And know that you go not only with my blessings, but under the leadership of the son of a hero, and a hero in his own right," the Emperor spoke solemnly to the soldiers.

Colonel Shang stepped forward from the assemblage of officers to his left and came to kneel before his sovereign.

"Li Shang, you have saved China once already. Do you accept this command and the responsibility to do so again?" the Emperor asked rhetorically.

"You honor me _too_ much, Your Majesty," the young man answered. The old man caught the tone of the word, and judging by the under breath *huff*, Chifu heard as well from his place with the ministers.

The boy would learn, as his father and Emperor had, how to live with glory you felt unworthy of.

XXX

Shang went through the pageantry of accepting the command. The new helmet he accepted before walking down from the platform felt heavy. The officers following him were all older than him, more experienced, more fit for the command than him.

As the officers passed through the ranks, the infantrymen rose from kneeling to stand at attention, and the cavalry mounted their steeds. Not his father's white horse army – an assemblage of veterans from the corners of the far flung military and fresh conscripts.

The pageantry was meant to inspire them. He wondered if it did anything to prepare them for the moment you realized what war truly was?

He didn't look to the side when he passed Yoa; there was no need. He could feel the man's eyes on him. Accusing, condemning him.

There was no choice; it was not his own honor that kept him for searching for someone that was surely dead. It was the honor of his father's legacy, the honor of the Li family, and it was his duty to his Emperor.

There could be no betrayal when there was no choice.

He mounted his stallion, helmet strapped in place, and gave the signal for them to move out.

Perhaps if he won true glory in this campaign the weight of the lies would lessen. Maybe he would stop seeing a sword in the snow every time he closed his eyes.

Li Shang marched east, the might of an empire at his back, and an empty horizon before him.

**Author's Note:**

_Happy Saint Valentines Day! I hope you liked the new chapter. I hope to get the next chapter out much sooner. _

_Not much action but we are moving towards some big moments having laid the groundwork. The summit promises to be fun and challenging to write, more motive with this darker form of Disney, huzzah._

_Long days and pleasant nights to you all._


	5. Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own Mulan. It belongs to generations of fans; and Disney.

_Betaed by Zim'smostloyalservant._

* * *

Brothers

"Mane, saddle, head, hoof," Mulan recited, pointing to the parts of Gaitan's horse. She kept pace well enough with the twin pulling along the prize mare. The pack she still carried was nothing compared to the water bucket exercise Shang had put her through, and her wounds had healed enough.

"Good, the horse tongue comes quickly," Gaitan congratulated her brusquely. She gave a nod but not a smile.

She had asked the one eyed woman, Oyunbileg, about learning the Hun's tongue. After all, it would help her cause to not be constantly in the dark about her captors. Not that she gave that as a reason.

Surprisingly, the warrior woman had taken to the idea and even dragged the twins in on it. Apparently, as the archer's wife she had some kind of rank over them.

Unfortunately, the boy Qorchi was also eager to help, and could now pester her in two languages. He clearly took after his mother rather than his stoic father.

The archer seemed to be a counselor, though she hadn't heard an actual title given to him. The Huns were savages, but it was plain to see they had an order of their own that seemed to work well enough on these steppes.

Mulan stepped away from Gaitan's path to take a glance at the white mare. It rarely struggled these last days, but it had a sullen look to it. Though she recalled how it had calmed under Shan-Yu's attention; strange that anything would be at ease with that man.

There were shouts from the head of the column. Mulan looked there and made out Shan-Yu, Shirchin, Lasuluun, and Ulaan gallop ahead and away from the column and out of sight over the hill she and the twins were currently ascending.

"A hunt?" she asked, still in the Hun tongue.

"No, greetings," Gaitan told her. Batu rolled his eyes at her puzzled expression.

"We have arrived," the bald man told her. As the reached the top of the hill, she saw what he meant.

Mulan stopped in her tracks, stunned at the sight. A mass of humanity… no, _Huns_, spread below. Tents covered the ground in clearly defined patches like a quilt. People and horses moved in the border space or the lanes between the tents. She noted at least two open spaces in the mass where horses were being ridden in a circuit. And was that a market?

Her attention though was drawn to the hill that rose above the mass, immaculate and nearly deserted under the pale northern sun. It's top was crowned by a massive grey tent, whose smoke hole was already sending a plume into the sky. Crowning was the right word for it; she could make out four rocks jutting from the ground just outside where the tent was raised. It was hard to make out but she was certain they were, or at least had once been, sculptures.

"The Hill of Eight Bears," she whispered, lifting a hand to her brow. Cri-kee stirred to look out from beneath her collar. He gave a series of nervous chirps, looking over the gathering of Hun tribes.

A horseman almost brushed her shoulder riding past and nicked her pack, sending her stumbling. That brought Mulan back to the present. The younger Huns were charging ahead with whoops and cries down the hill.

"Hah, better watch that you don't get trampled. The young want their fun," One Eye called. Mulan scowled at where the woman smiled at her from atop her horse, sharing the beast with her son. With a huff, she straightened her pack and stomped down the hill.

XXX

"It's him," Ulaan stated. The archer rode next to the Shan-Yu as they galloped toward the summit gathering, his voice carrying well without seeming to rise, with the practiced ease of a Hun.

Of course Bataar had seen the riders come out to meet them, and he knew only one who would be so eager to face him in such a time as this. But the confirmation was good. Slowing his mount to a trot, his warriors matched his pace as the oncoming riders drew near.

The greeters kept up their hard pace, splitting to circle around the group of veterans; a dozen warriors, he counted easily. But these were not the equals of the men at his back, even if they thought they were. One did not turn off but reared his stallion in front of them, letting it kick the air and whiny. Its hooves came back to earth with a crunch.

"Brother, so glad to see you have arrived," Unegan smiled that smile of his. There had only been one time Bataar had seen an honest smile from his brother – since that day there had always been something hidden behind them. Like the moon behind a cloud, you knew it was there, but you still couldn't see it.

"The King of the Left has time to spare to ride out and greet me when the Hill must be prepared?" Bataar asked in answer.

"You've kept us waiting, the shamans' work is done. They only await Old Moon's blessings tonight, and tomorrow the Summit can truly begin. Last time the Chieftains sat, it was to pledge that they would send warriors to form an army for your war when the seasons turned.

"And now here we are. But Sun and Moon shine on the Huns, they have not only spared you, but these few mighty warriors," Unegan went on. He put emphasis on the word 'few', letting his eyes wander over his own warriors.

"Well, I doubt the Council wants to be kept waiting; we have camp to make, and the young fools have gone off," Battar told him coldly.

"Ah, you should not be so harsh, after all you were once- oh yes, you were in exile when you were that young," Unegan chided himself. Bataar gave his own smile.

"Only until I killed your father," the Shan-Yu reminded him. Unegan's smile did not disappear, but something changed in it.

"Until dawn," Bataar told him, spurring his horse past the King of the Left. His warriors followed after him, Unegan watched them go.

"Sire, shall we head back?" a warrior with a blunt helm asked him.

"No, let's get a look at his people before they settle down," Unegan said, turning his horse towards the approaching mass of Bataar's Ger.

XXX

Mulan bit into the cord, holding it taut as she tied the final knot. Giving the cord another final tug as much for the sake of spite as testing, she let the leather strip slip from between her teeth. The captive woman took a few steps back to see her handiwork.

Her tent raising skills had come a long way from needing Gaitan to assist, or her "disgraceful excuse for a shelter" she had raised back in the camp. Her plain small ger looked downright habitable.

"Maral, I see you have overcome your epic struggle against your ger," Gaitan called out in amusement. Mulan sighed and turned to see the twins making their way to her through the usual bedlam of the camp being raised.

They were upwind of most of the gathering, but the air still stunk of Huns and horses. The fact they seemed unaffected aggravated her. A lot of things seemed to make her angry, but she had decided that was a good thing.

Anger could keep her going; despair would only weigh her down.

"Ahh, a small summit being short notice, but still good to be back," Gaitan remarked wistfully.

"Small? In that case I hope I never see a big one, the stench would kill me," Mulan answered sharply. Gaitan laughed while she knelt to inspect a stake and its rope.

"You don't know what you are saying Maral – this is the time of togetherness, where feuds are started and ended, and people meet who would never cross paths at other times," Gaitan recounted. Batu rolled his eyes; Mulan found the quieter brother was easier company.

"And you have access to women who haven't heard all your lines," Batu added.

"Brother, you wound me! Who has not heard of Great Gaitan, who wields his weapon with such skill and power that all men turn away in shame of their own inadequacies, and women fall to their knees in awe?

"And I am also known to be quite capable with this," Gaitan finished, drawing his sword. Mulan coughed, turning away to cover her blush. Batu put a hand to his face.

"It wasn't funny the first time, fool," Batu spat.

"What would you know of good humor, proudly stoic one?" Gaitan huffed, but the look on his face betrayed a lack of anger.

"Why don't you two wear shirts?" Mulan demanded, turning back. She just wanted them to talk about something else, preferably less vulgar.

Both brothers looked at the blushing girl, seemingly confused by the non sequitur. Gaitan glanced to Batu, who shrugged.

"Actually, it started one winter morning-" Batu began.

"BATU!" a shrill voice cut in. The Huns cringed, while Mulan almost dove into her tent for cover.

"Oh my," Gaitan smiled at his brother, rubbing an ear. Batu looked around quickly, shifting on his feet, while Mulan stood back up to her full height, quite irritated.

"Batu! Where have you been! ?" the voice yelled at a saner volume. Mulan watched with shock as a Hun woman that might have been shorter than her stomped into sight. Her hair was tied in the traditional two loose braids and her clothes were hides of a fine cut adorned with strips of silk and beads of silver and gold.

She might have been pretty, but her face was set in a deep scowl that made Mulan want to reach for the sword she did not have.

"Choeten," Batu greeted her, bowing slightly. Mulan was impressed he was not quivering at all. When the woman reached him and firmly planted her feet, she still had that air of menace around her.

'An enemy, maybe I could use that?' Mulan wondered. The woman had no signs of being a fighter – the way she walked around was not like a soldier or a Hun warrior. It was like she was trying to hammer nails with her feet.

Choeten reached up and grabbed half of Batu's mustache with a jerk.

"GAH! What are you-?" Batu demanded, slapping the hand away and pulling back to his full height.

"First you put off the wedding until after the invasion, and now you drag your feet at the summoning to tell dirty jokes with some… why is there a Han here?" Choeten demanded.

"Uh, I'm-" Mulan began.

"Very nice, I'm sure. But you! How dare you keep my father waiting; there is no time to waste with your brother and his plunder!" she cut Mulan off before turning back on Batu.

"For the last time, she is not mine!" Gaitan yelled. Choeten glared at him; he held his scowl, but took a step back.

"We only just set up our tents," Batu protested.

"Your tent? Your tent is more important, you say? Well, maybe I should just go tell my father it was a bad idea after all if those are your priorities," she seethed, before turning and stomping off, nose lifted in the air.

"Wait! Choeten, I made you something nice!" Batu called, running to catch up with her. She stopped and turned to look up at him. An awkward silence fell over the two.

"Well?" she demanded.

"What? I don't have it with me!" Batu protested. Choeten started off again, and the two were quickly lost in the bustle of the Ger being raised.

"_What_ was that?" Mulan asked, shocked, pointing after the demon woman.

"Choeten, Batu's intended," Gaitan answered, running a hand through his hair.

"Intended?" Mulan repeated, disbelieving.

"I told him putting the wedding off was a bad idea. He was insistent he wouldn't want to risk her becoming a widow so swiftly," Gaitan went on.

"She took it as an insult?" Mulan asked, still looking after the two Huns.

"No, she's not an idiot, even if she doesn't think when she gets angry… which happens too often. I think she was upset he was admitting he might not come back.

"It's not every arranged marriage that the two actually like each other," Gaitan sighed, looking up to the sky.

'He's engaged?' Mulan thought. A man like that, it made sense, after all one of his peers at least had a wife and child. But them liking each other? They were Huns!

She buried an army of monsters, not men!

"Personally, I have never seen the appeal. Besides, how could I inflict such a curse on the women of the steppes as to pledge my sword to only one sheath?" Gaitan asked her wryly.

Mulan went into her tent, pulling the flap into place with more force than was needed. Inside, she could hear the man laughing. Mushu whistled, impressed, from his spot on her sleeping spot playing cards with Cri-kee.

"Now we know why they're always running off to war. They want to get away from their nasty ladies," Mushu quipped.

XXX

"Miss Maral? Please Miss Maral, wake up. Please! ?" a voice intruded on Mulan's dreamless sleep. Her eyes opened quickly and she reached for her goat staff, finding it.

Mushu emerged from wherever he had been to crouch on her shoulder as she sat up. No one had entered the tent, she noted.

"Please Miss Maral," a woman whispered audibly. Mulan looked at her tent flap suspiciously.

"Who is there?" she demanded, throwing off her blanket. She rose to her feet in a crouch.

"I am Dalan, I have the honor to be a wife to the King of the Left. My husband wishes to speak with you. He invites you to his tent to share tea with him and his most favored wife, Khongordzol," the woman called from beyond the tent flap.

"What?" Mulan asked at the same time as Mushu.

"I am Dalan, I have-" the woman began again.

"I heard you the first time," Mulan snapped. She heard the woman shuffle back and felt guilty before recalling the absurdity of the request.

"Ouch, no, not dreaming," Mushu told her after pinching himself on the arm.

Frowning, Mulan stepped up to the tent flap and pulled it clear of its binding. A pair of Hun warriors stood outside with torches – despite their faces being cast in shadow, she had a feeling she not seen them before. Kneeling in front of her tent was a Hun woman. Her clothes were of the typical Hun cut but had been dyed blue, or perhaps black in this light? The left half of her face was nearly concealed by a large bang decorated with a row of four golden beads.

"Tea?" Mulan asked the woman.

"Yes, my husband is quite fond of it. It is a great honor to be asked to share tea with him. We should hurry, I understand the preparations were starting shortly after I was sent," Dalan answered, glancing to her guards.

"…This is Unegan, the Shan-Yu's brother?" she pressed. She had heard him mentioned in the gossip she had been overhearing since picking up the Hun tongue.

"Of course, a great man," Dalan answered, looking at the packed grass.

"…Alright," Mulan conceded.

"Excellent, let's go. I mean, that is most acceptable, he will be pleased at your presence," the woman corrected herself. She had gotten to her feet so quickly Mulan had almost pulled up her staff. Thankfully, the woman was too focused on the ground to notice, Mulan noted.

"I need to change," she told the messenger.

"Of course, please hurry," Dalan composed herself, brushing at her bang with the back of a hand. Mulan withdrew into her tent, pulling the flap shut.

"What are you doing?" Mushu demanded as she pulled out her day clothes.

"Something besides sitting around," she answered, pulling out a grey tunic.

When she emerged, tightening her belt, Dalan beckoned for her to follow and turned away. Mulan was a bit surprised at the brisk pace the woman and her escorts set – among her own people, being seen in such a hurry was hardly acceptable. But she supposed even the upper class barbarians were still barbarians.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice called out from the darkness as they reached the edge of the Shan-Yu's encampment. Mulan drew a sharp breath narrowing her eyes to look around as the group stopped. She knew that voice, and curse the torches for ruining her night vision.

"Lasuluun," Dalan managed after a moment. The lanky Hun emerged from the shadows into the torchlight like a ghost. She could see his eyes catching the light, and feel them fall on her. A shudder passed through her from ankle to scalp, and an urge to pull her clothes tighter.

No, she would not give him the satisfaction. She met his gaze.

He looked away, but it was no victory, rather it felt like he had deemed her not worth the effort of the contest. Dalan stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the ground again.

'She's trembling,' Mulan realized, seeing her light catching beads in her hair move before noticing the rest. Lips pressing together into a line, the Han woman took a step forward and to the side, placing herself partly between the rapist and the woman.

For a moment she forgot that woman was also a Hun.

"…What is this?" Lasuluun finally turned his attention on the torch bearing guards.

"King Unegan has taken an interest in this woman," one of the guards answered.

"She is the property of the Shan-Yu," the older Hun reminded them.

"The brother will be respectful of the ownership," the same guard answered.

"His Majesty is not so much a savage as your master," the other answered.

Lasuluun looked at them, putting a hand on his hilt lightly. Both men grabbed their swords, partly pulling the steel clear.

"Heh, see to it that he does. There is always the blood-price," Lasuluun smiled coldly. Without another word he was gone, vanished back into the shadows.

"Come on, His Majesty will not want to be kept waiting," the lead guard said. Mulan followed as the other grabbed Dalan by the arm, pulling her back into motion. The woman recovered quickly enough and he let her go to stumble a step before she took a place behind Mulan at they walked through the open ground between encampments.

XXX

This was the kind of tent she would expect for a ruler. Well, actually, rulers were supposed to live in palaces, but if a ruler lived in a tent this is what it would look like. The tent was vast, though its exact size was hard to determine in the night. By the light of the braziers she could make out designs worked into the cloth.

"Please, he's waiting for you," Dalan urged. Mulan glanced to the woman clasping hands behind her.

'No point having second guesses now,' Mulan decided; stepping forward, she pulled back the tent flap.

It was bright, well lit inside, making her blink for a moment. The smell of tea reached her nose, surprising despite having been told to expect it.

She had never been especially fond of tea, but it had been something her mind tied to her father. That positive connection somewhat tempered by her encounter with the matchmaker.

"Welcome, I was worried Dalan would run late, but she brought you on time after all," a warm, smooth, voice spoke to her. Looking clearly, she saw the Shan-Yu's brother for the first time. He was tall, but not big like his hulking brother. His thick hair was pulled back into a loose tail, revealing a smooth brow and clear face. His mustache was smaller than many she had seen – it lacked tails, simply gracing his upper lip.

He was handsome, Mulan was surprised to see. Not like Shang, but his sharp features held a certain allure she couldn't deny. And his eyes, they were dark, not wolf eyes.

Was this really that monster's brother?

"Half brother," he seemed to pluck the thought from her mind. He lifted a hand to run over his hair, displaying the jeweled rings adorning it. The leather belts crossing his chest held six plain gold rings apiece too, she realized. The clothes were fur-lined, and well cut – unlike his brother, this was a man who bothered to dress like a leader. The only plain thing about him was the steel chain he seemed to be wearing as a belt.

'Huns will be Huns,' she thought. A cup placed in front of her reminded her someone else was present.

The chief wife. She had a fine oval shaped face, but her features were Hunnic. A handsome woman, Mulan decided, her hair artfully tied into a bun on her head. She was wearing a red dress with a fox outlined in black across the left side.

The woman smiled at her with a certain kind confidence that made her more wary than at ease. Lifting a floral enameled teapot, the Hun woman poured the tea into her cup.

"He and I share a mother. We take after our fathers, but if you had known her you would see the connections.

"Please enjoy the tea. If you like, I will taste it as deeply as you like.

"I have heard a great deal about you Maral, poor girl made a refugee by my brother's war. And then being carried off to be despoiled by him and his men. Now here you are in a hard savage land surrounded by hard savages.

"It's a small thing against all that, but I offer you a civilized drink. Hopefully a relieving reminder of better times," Unegan spoke.

It was at that, she thought, picking up the cup. It was familiar in this foreign land, even just the feel of the cup in her hand, its weight.

Had she truly been so naïve as to think the matchmaker's rejection the worst day of her life? Though perhaps it was, as the root from which this horrid tree of fortune had sprung.

Sipping the tea, she savored the flavor. She thought of making tea for her father, of her mother teaching her to brew it so long ago, and of her grandmother's absurd attempts to divine the future from the leaves.

"A smile; I see yours is a face that was crafted for smiling," Unegan told her. She tried to suppress the blush as he sipped his own tea.

The chief wife gave a bow before backing out, through another flap, never quite standing.

"Thank you for the tea. It does remind me of home," she bowed her head to the man. She looked up to see him return the nod before glancing around. The interior walls were a plain white dye, but around them were vases, screens, and other decorations that clearly had come from China.

A display directly behind Unegan caught her attention, leaning to see it. A Chinese longsword, displayed in its scabbard, sat on a holder atop a wooden table. The sight made something connect in her head and her grip on the teacup tightened.

"Is something wrong?" Unegan asked, eyes darting to her hands.

"Uh, just a bitter aftertaste," she lied quickly, trying to avoid looking at him.

This was a Hun royal – how would he have gotten these items, including the tea set, save by stealing them? How many innocents died for his interior decorating? The cup felt heavy in her hands, wondering at the fate of the previous owner.

"You're nervous. But of course, a cup of tea does not earn trust and you have traveled far. You have my leave to go, I hope to see you again soon and that we might speak at length," he said.

Well, a more refined and tactful savage at least, Mulan noted. She gave him thanks and a bow before rising and leaving the tent.

Dalan was nowhere in sight, but the two guards were still there. Without a word, they began to take her back to her tent. Mulan glanced back at the large tent.

'Unegan, the Hun King of the Left. Can I use him to escape this place?' she wondered.

XXX

Unegan smiled, looking at the entryway the Han woman had disappeared through. He would not think of her as Maral. A crude Hun name did not fit this vision.

He had caught sight of her earlier, shadowing Bataar's Ger. The sun indeed. He could not point to one thing about her that made her alluring, but she came together perfectly. And he could sense it, power. So unlike the ghoul's cold grasping presence, it _was_ like a sun was under her skin.

A proper Han bride at last. He had tried to acquire Han women before, but they had all been nothing but disappointments – ugly, stupid, unable to give him sons, trash in the end.

He imagined this sun woman properly attired in the manner of her people. Not at all like his own wives pretending to be something better than savages done up like their betters. No, she would be a perfect bride…

"Husband?" a voice interrupted his fond thoughts. He scowled, getting to his feet and turning. His chief wife stood there in the interior entrance, but she quickly fell to her knees.

"What, wife?" he demanded. She flinched at the impersonal address, but asked her question, meeting his eyes.

"Did you find the answer you were seeking?" she asked. Unegan took a step towards her and she bowed her head. When he reached her he slipped a long fingered hand under her chin and tilted her head up.

"Who are you to ask me about my business? You are chief wife only until someone else pleases me more. Asking questions like that does not please me," he told her calmly.

"Of course. I am sorry," she said evenly.

"You are forgiven. Now fetch Dalan and… the one with three braids. The tea was too cold, she took too long, and the bitterness displeased our guest. They need to be reminded to try harder for their husband," he told her.

"Of course, they are as lazy and stupid as ever. You must remind them that to be a king's wife is to be held to actual standards," the chief wife agreed, smiling.

"Khongordzol, you remind me why you are my chief wife. Now go," he smiled, pulling his hand back. She was gone swiftly – she knew he didn't like to be kept waiting.

"I've been waiting for too much of my life," he grumbled to himself as he unwound the chain around his waist.

But soon his waiting would be over. Just awhile longer to be patient and cunning, and he would take back all that had been stolen from him, and more.

In the meantime, he unclasped the belt that had been under the chain.

XXX

Unegan's men had only taken her to the edge of the Shan-Yu's encampment before leaving her. They were quick to go, she noticed. Apparently her captor scared them even with all the losses he had taken.

It was no big deal to her though; she made her way back to her tent through the dark broken by the occasional fire. She could hear some chatter and laughter from the fires she gave wide berth to – the hour was late but some still seemed in a festive mood.

Passing one tent, she heard sounds that made her quicken her pace with a flush.

Finally she was back to her own tent; it wasn't much, but it was a relief. Mulan looked to the Shan-Yu's tent so close at hand. It squatted dark and still, truly distinguishable from its neighbors only by the space it was allowed.

His new horse was staked near the entrance, a black beast of a stallion. The large horse raised its head and gave a snort in her direction. She wrinkled her nose at the mangy creature, so unlike her elegant Khan. Or the white mare…

"Not much compared to his canvas palace, is it?" a deep voice chuckled. Mulan gasped and cursed herself for it. Falling into an unarmed stance, she looked around for him.

There, in the shadow of her own tent, his hulking form a deeper darkness amidst the shadows and night. But his eyes, those wolf eyes, they shone clear through it all.

"How long have you been there?" she demanded.

"Such a disrespectful tone. If anyone should be upset it should be me. Sneaking off without my permission. I am surprised you came back," Shan-Yu said. She couldn't see it, but she knew the tyrant was smiling.

"I am not your slave," she shot back.

"Oh come now, you know you are. We settled that matter at the river, I am sure you haven't forgotten.

"But I am not here to punish you, despite what my faithful watchman wants. I would be almost disappointed if you were so broken as to not seek out some aid against my yoke," he continued with a mocking edge.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she defended, dropping the stance to stand straight.

"Don't assume I am a fool because I don't put on airs like you Han do for seeing what should be obvious.

"And don't assume Unegan is the tame man he would have you believe. He is a fox by name, and a snake by blood," he warned her in that same tone.

"And what place does a man who slaughters children have to judge someone else," she stated coldly.

"Hmm, yes, you could call me a monster. But perhaps one monster can recognize another.

"There are many differences between us. The one that concerns you is that he is a liar. I will deceive my enemies to win a battle, but I never disguise my final intent. My enemies know I seek their destruction and my allies know where I stand.

"He is like his father, though weaker. Unegan lives lies, and uses them to use people. I am honest at heart," the warlord explained.

"_You_, an honest man?" she practically laughed at that.

"A burning flag and a bloodstained wall are clear declarations of my intentions. And what is a more honest way to deal with your enemy than stabbing him in the chest?

"He may not have made an offer to you tonight – he likes to gain insight before committing himself – but he will if he believes you have some value.

"My half-brother comes across as a man of some kind of greatness. But he's still that petty child I spared all those years ago under all that wealth and power.

"He will use you, then discard you, or worse, when he is done," the wolf-eyed man said. Mulan frowned, wishing she could see his face.

"And why would you warn me? You seem content to ignore me so long as I am miserable. Why the concern?" Mulan demanded.

"To hinder whatever he is scheming. If he is as foolish as my men think, I will destroy him. But I would rather focus on real threats rather than that fool leaping onto my blade," he admitted shamelessly.

'You mean my father's blade,' she thought furiously.

"In that case, why should I believe a word you say about him?

"He seems more of a prince than you. I hear you killed his father, it seems you stole the throne from your brother," Mulan commented heatedly.

She took a step back and instinctively adjusted her feet. She was in danger, her senses screamed flight as they decided fight was death. The shadow did not move, only the narrowed eyes gave any sign of a change in him.

"As always, a Han declares a 'truth' built upon ignorance and vanity.

"Tread wide of Unegan, or you will die as a result of his scheming. By his hand or mine," he told her. Then the man turned away, the wolf eyes vanished from sight, and soon she felt he was gone.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Mulan entered her tent, tying the flap back into place.

"So how was your tea time with Big and Scary's bro?" Mushu asked, climbing up to her shoulder. She considered changing back into her nightclothes but decided not to.

"In the morning. I have had enough Huns for tonight," she yawned. Scooping up Cri-kee, she eased back into her sleeping. It came swiftly and brought no relief overtaking her.

She dreamed of screaming horses, bloody daggers in the dark, an old grey Hun falling as a wavy blade sprang from his chest, and glowing green eyes. The eyes hung over it all, like twin diseased moons. Looking, looking at her.

XXX

The Hill of Eight Bears, with its tent crown, was bathed in the light of the waning moon. Old Moon looked on it with solemnity that would surprise most who knew him. His thoughts shifted with slow but sure deliberation of the times that had come and gone since he first looked on that hill.

Loses and victories in such number he could not say if he was a success or failure. Such times of joy and so much heartbreak that had driven him to his knees he could no longer say if his life had been happy or horrible.

The very old shaman brought the skin of kusmiss to his lips.

"Empty, used up. But unlike men when they get used up, it can easily be filled again. To fill up an empty man, is so much harder," the shaman remarked, studying the skin intently. With a sigh, he shoved it back into his belt and looked up at the stars.

"I know you are there, come forth! My time is too long and my patience too short for waiting games," he barked.

The shaman glared around, and digging into a pouch at his waist he drew forth an eadol shred like a horse and threw it to the ground. It struck the tip of a blade of grass, and balanced there on a hind leg. The small bone talisman began to spin, silver mist rising about it.

The wind picked up, buffeting against the shaman, who braced himself against his staff. Rather than scattering the mist, the wind seemed to fan it. Hooves thundered in a deafening chorus as the world turned white around him.

He closed his eyes, sighing at the sensation of tingling through his old bones. As quick as it came, the thunder was gone, and all was silent.

Old Moon opened his eyes to see the mist was still swirling, but the grass around him was uncovered for some distance. More importantly, he was no longer alone. Silvery near-transparent horses milled about him, sniffing the air or glaring at him with suspicion.

Atop them rode Huns of similar make up. Though many of them displayed less hostility.

"For someone who demands respect, you don't seem consistent on giving it," a bearded Hun ancestor stated, passing the shaman.

"Have Tianlinn and Zaya come with you?" Old Moon asked.

"As ever he can't, and she won't," a beautiful woman with an arrow lodged in her neck answered him.

"Why so angry, old friend, it's not like you," a voice rumbled. The Huns dead turned their horses, clearing a path for a figure emerging from the mist.

He and his stallion seemed crafted of smoke rather than mist, billowing about as if contained in glass with a wind inside. The stallion was a broad beast, its head shifting warily as it studied its surroundings, giving an occasional snort.

The rider patted its neck, urging calm. He, like his mount, was broadly built, thick arms and wide shoulders testifying to strength. His fur cloak stretched over a massive belly that did not jiggle in the slightest. Iron studded belts crossed his chest, and gold medallions shined on his broad belt. A bearskin cloak hung across his back, its head adorning his right shoulder.

The face sagged with age, and the hair had receded, leaving only a wedge touching his brow as the rest was pulled back into a braid. The lines on his face spoke of scowls, smiles, grimaces, and laughter. At last his eyes looked on Old Moon with a curiosity that demanded explanation.

"Hail Modu, first Shan-Yu," the old shaman went to his knees propped up by his staff. The ghostly Hun smiled and held his hand up.

"Rise, young Hun, I would far rather have your honest anger than empty respect," Modu chuckled.

"Young? ! Have you seen this handsomely aged face?" Old Moon objected, gesturing to his face while flashing a half-toothed grin.

"A face that no one could forget, no matter how hard they tried," Modu nodded solemnly. The Hun ancestors laughed while Old Moon huffed about a lack of respect.

"Ah, but once again you live in interesting times, shaman. Bataar lives," Modu stated, merriment vanishing.

"Yes, you told me only two possibilities existed. Him going forth to die, or my convincing him to wait another year, and that would be good for him, but worse for all of Asia, including the Huns.

"Either you tricked my by not telling me there was another path, or you are not so wise as you would have me think," Old Moon snapped.

"I am not all knowing, I did not lie to you. But now we must deal with the tract-less land that before us," Modu answered, looking into the mist swirling around them.

"I won't lead Bataar to his death again. Once was enough; if you could be wrong once, you could be wrong again," Old Moon declared.

"You would defy the honored dead of the Huns?" a bald horseman with a chest-baring vest sneered.

Old Moon glared at the rider and slammed the butt of his staff onto the grass. The air around the rider sparkled and with only a cry of anger he vanished in a pop.

"This is spiritual ground, in the land of the living. Spirits come when I call and leave at my command. Even you, Modu, are dead, and can only influence the living. I serve the Huns present and future first, not the whims of the dead," Old Moon reminded him with one eye squinted.

The ancestors stirred angrily. Modu frowned and held up a hand; they stilled.

"Enough of this! We stand on the edge of a new era, quarreling among ourselves will only cost us this opportunity!" the ancient Shan-Yu admonished all present. Old Moon sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I know I failed with him, Modu. When I became a shaman, I gave up forever the right to be a father. But I raised him for so many years, I think of him like a son, though he will never see me as a father. Perhaps that is why I was meant to walk the shaman's path – I am not fit to be a father.

"But monster or not… I cannot betray him again, I will bring my drawn out life to an end first," Old Moon confessed sadly. Modu's face softened and he sighed.

"The seeds of darkness were planted in him by the Night of Daggers. You did fail to stop them from taking root, but it was not a task you were prepared for.

"He has made terrible choices. A Shan-Yu must be a warrior, but he is not; he is a beast. His quest for vengeance has been drawn too far and it will consume the Huns as it has consumed him.

"And yet Unegan is worse," Modu growled.

"What then? What scheme does the Unifier have for me to set in motion?" Old Moon asked wearily.

"Bataar's return in failure would change nothing. But he has brought something back with him. The key to a new era.

"Those who walk a dark path rarely stray from it. But the light of the sun can reveal much that was thought lost.

"Old Moon, eldest shaman of the steppes. I, Modu, ask this of you in the coming days…" the dead Shan-Yu asked. He got off his horse to address the surprised shaman, and explain his plan.

Old Moon smiled as the scheme was laid out for him. Great minds do think alike!

XXX

Mulan stretched, wearing her trousers and chest wrap as early morning light filtered into her tent. Cri-kee jumped off the tunic she had tossed out as she scooped it up.

"I don't like this. Tea with a Hun is crazy enough, but a charming Hun? Uh-uh, something's wrong with this picture," Mushu griped as he paced the floor. Mulan slipped the tunic on and watched the little red dragon pace, hands clasped behind his back. She had become so used to him it only struck her on odd moments how strange it was to see a dragon do such normal or ridiculous things.

She wondered if all dragons were so human, or if Mushu was as much of a misfit as her. Adjusting the tunic, she cut off his tea rant.

"It's not like I trust him. But maybe I can use one brother to get out from under the other," she told him. Cri-kee leapt unto her shoulder and chirped worriedly.

"Risky? ! Cri-kee, you are talking to the drag queen of the Imperial Army! We've been plying risky since day one," Mushu proclaimed, puffing out his thin chest. Cri-kee gave another chirp and the dragon deflated before pointing an accusing finger.

"Well, yes, it didn't work out! But it was _so close_," Mushu gritted. He let out a sigh and sat down on her bedding. Her failure had also been his, she reminded herself. His gamble at redeeming himself in the eyes of the Ancestors had turned out to be a bad roll.

"I'm going to follow through on this, Mushu. If the Shan-Yu cares enough to confront me, it must mean his brother actually poses some threat. What do I have to lose?" Mulan asked, pulling on her deer cloak.

"For one your life, and the other… you know the other. Besides, this guy seems into China, he may be angling to add you to his collection," Mushu warned.

"I'm not exactly a prize fit for a prince, Mushu. Now get going, you said you would spy on the Hun chieftains today," she reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, you stay out of trouble in the mean time. Messed up language – eleven words for horse, one word for soap!" the dragon grumbled. Mulan smiled as he lifted the canvas and scurried out of sight.

* * *

AUTHOR ANNOUNCEMENT:

**As this story moves into higher gear I want to take a moment to publicly thank Jazzqueen. Not only for the original idea, but for the ongoing assistance in making Hachin unfold. Not only has Jazzqueen proven a great source for the relevant cultures cultures, but has been ready and willing to provide critical feedback on the story itself. This story would not be what it is without that input.**

**Its been fun, and we are not even close to done.**

**And of course thanks to all you reviewers. I don't believe in holding a story hostage for reviews, but you make the very notion even more ridiculous with your generosity. Over 100 reviews already! I wouldn't have believed it when I started this project.**

**Until next time, long days and pleasant nights to you all. **


	6. Wolf, Bear, & Horse

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Mulan. After all could someone of my income and lowly talents create such a masterpiece of the animated arts? I think not.**_

Betaed by: _Zim'smostloyalservant & Jazzqueen_

* * *

**Wolf, Bear, & Horse**

Mulan emerged from her ger wearing the deer cloak, glancing around for trouble as had become her habit. Movement caught her eye as Shan-Yu emerged from his own ger, eyes already fixed on her. That small, nasty, knowing, smile told her he had been lying in wait; another reminder of the fact she was in his power.

Looking away from that arrogant face brought her eyes to his belt, her father's sword strapped to it. Her eyes snapped back to his, anger sparking in them. His smile widened slightly, again just as he had planned, she guessed.

"So Maral, as they call you. The usual mold of the day is broken, giving you the day to yourself. Have you made plans for your little festival day? Or are you going to sneak back to my brother wasting it with pointless plotting?" he asked in a taunting tone. Mulan's face scrunched up even more and she snapped back.

"That is such big talk, considering one soldier was able to bring your entire army to its knees," Mulan reminded him. The smile vanished, and he stepped up to her, looking down. She held his gaze, looking up into the wolf eyes.

"If I wasn't so merciful, then I would have spared that soldier only to deliver him to my Ger. The men of the Huns are known for their ferocity, but a Hun widow's wrath… that is something terrible to behold. If that soldier were here, they would only live so long as their identity was kept secret – even a shan-yu's protection may not be enough when grief and hate is what makes killers draw their steel," he mused. She turned her head sharply away.

Shan-Yu grabbed her chin and jerked her face to look back at him.

"Sire, it is time," Ulaan spoke up. The Hun ruler looked to see his inner circle standing at ready, and glanced to the tent crowning the Hill of Eight Bears.

"So it is," Bataar answered, letting her go. Scowling at his back, she retreated a few steps to stand in front of her ger.

"Batu, Lassulun, you two will accompany me to the council. Ulaan, you have the Ger, Gaitan you will watch my slave, and Shirchin you may do as you wish," he declared. They all bowed, save Batu, who coughed.

"What is it Batu?" Bataar demanded.

"Well, Choeten has… requested I take part in preparations for the wedding this morning," the swordsman admitted. Someone made a sound like a whip cracking; Batu turned to his brother who looked off innocently. Bataar rolled his eyes.

"Very well, you do as you please. Ulaan will accompany me in your place and Shirchin will have the Ger," Bataar decided. Batu smiled, looking relieved. Shirchin frowned, but bowed his head when Bataar fixed him with a look.

Without another word the Shan-Yu turned away, walking towards the hill, the archer and long faced swordsman falling into step behind him. Mulan watched as a trail of green smoke began to rise through the smoke hole of the great tent. She could almost make out guards paroling, only to realize they weren't guards.

"Guardian spirits," Shirchin spoke up from beside her. She stepped away quickly, scowling at him. He was unaffected, gesturing with his chin.

"The Hill is sacred to all Hun ancestors. Powerful spirits watch over meetings there to keep spirits malign and mischievous from affecting the governance of the Huns," he told her.

He walked off, and Mulan realized what he had said.

'Protect it from mischievous spirits? Mushu,' she worried.

"Well, I can't say having you tag along today was my plan," Gaitan griped. She had forgotten he was still standing there. Thankfully, he seemed to have not heard her.

"Tag along?" Mulan asked briskly.

"Well I'm not hanging around here! I plan to enjoy the Summit before Bataar or Choeten wrangle me into something ceremonial and boring. So it looks like you are coming with me," Gaitan told her unhappily.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

"Yes, but would you rather help the naughty children haul away the unusable goat guts for the feast preparations?" he asked. Mulan wrinkled her nose as her shoulders sagged. Mingling with even more Huns was not on her list for a fun filled day. But neither were large amounts of goat guts.

"Can I come! ?" Qorchi asked. Mulan and Gaitan started before looking at the smiling very excited boy.

"How does he pop up like that?" Mulan asked.

"I wish I knew, it would come in handy," Gaitan remarked.

"Your mother can take you," Mulan offered.

"No she can't, she said she was busy and she didn't need to worry about stepping on me so I should go bug you," Qorchi said. Mulan closed her eyes, while Gaitan coughed.

"Ask your mother if you can come," Gaitan suggested.

"Okay!" he said, and was off like a loosed arrow.

"Move it before he gets back," Gaitan lightly shoved Mulan into walking.

"That's a bit mean," she remarked.

"I already have to watch you, I don't need to worry about Oyunbileg getting mad at me for corrupting her son," Gaitan answered brusquely.

"She said yes," Qorchi said behind them. Mulan chuckled despite herself, stepping away from Gaitan as he froze in place. He looked over his shoulder to see the one eyed woman smirking and give him a little mocking wave before striding off, far too happily. Shirchin had been with her and gestured with his hand to come closer.

The shirtless Hun left Qorchi to pester Mulan about everything he wanted to do while the warrior walked over to the other member of the inner circle.

"Something you want to say?" Gaitan asked.

"You remember how we found that woman in the snow?" Shirchin asked, pulling out a knife for inspection.

"Of course," Gaitan answered.

"Really, because you act as if there wasn't much snow. You might not know it looking at her, but I think she could leave a lot of snow here, if we forgot what she can do with a little snow," Shirchin said, idly looking down the knife's edge.

"I got as much snow as you did," Gaitan reminded him, scowling.

"Yes, but you seem to forget. You are a grown man and a proven warrior. I would mourn you, but not long if your own foolishness got you into trouble.

"But Qorchi has gotten close to her I see, and you have let that happen," Shirchin said, shoving the knife back into its sheath.

"What was I to say, you know how Bataar feels on her," Gaitan demanded.

"He is a curious lad, very eager to take things far. I would hate for something to happen to him Gaitan; he has such promise. I would hate to be someone who let it happen because they forgot things they should remember," Shirchin held his eyes, scowling.

"Do not forget who I am. I have fought in as many wars as you and never donned armor, or worn so much as a hide through winter since I was a boy. The winter does not kill me; my foes leave no scars. I am Gaitan, and the Shan-Yu placed her under my watch," Gaitan leaned close to the other man's face. Shirchin looked back, unblinking, then nodded.

As he turned to go Gaitan spoke.

"You had best remember something as well, old friend. Many would find it strange for a man to show more worry for a boy than that boy's own father. Even when that boy is so unlike his father," Gaitan's mouth quirked. The other Hun glared at him before stalking off.

XXX

It was Bataar's least favorite part of a summit, and there was a great deal he hated about these gatherings. Drawing the Han sword, he planted it in the ground next to the tent entrance, alongside the swords of all the other chieftains. True, he could still take any of them even unarmed, but it was the principal of disarming himself.

He pushed the tent flap aside and stepped into the large space. The great chieftains, the representatives of those who could not come, and most of the lesser ones sat in the wide circle on mats of straw. Old Moon and two other shamans sat within the circle facing him in front of the smoldering fire.

Hearing his bodyguards enter he took the nearest spot, the only vacant one, and sat, closing the circle. Old Moon slowly pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff.

"Once more the Circle closes. Here where the Hun Confederation was born in bloodshed and brotherhood, the Circle of Leadership assembles once more! I call on the Eight Bears to watch over us in this time, to cast spirits foul and foreign from our midst. I call on the circle to wisely direct the course of our people. And I call upon our mighty Shan-Yu to heed the wisdom of this Circle," Old Moon proclaimed. The Circle answered him with a chant in tandem.

"We sheath our swords in the earth, pledging peace between one another. We are the pack that thrives as the lone wolf dies. Under the eyes of Bear we violent men open our fists to speak and be heard," they intoned.

"The summit is opened, in the sight of sun and moon, before your ancestors, and under protection of the Eight Bears let the course of the Hun Nation be set," Old Moon declared with a clap of surprising force.

Silence stretched as the shaman sat, the leaders of the Huns sizing each other up, waiting to make the first word.

"Well, no sense delaying the matter further," Unegan broke in, trying to sound reluctant. Bataar noted that as usual he was the most richly attired here, with his rings and ornaments.

An old broad-built Hun grunted agreement. Age had widened his waist and wrinkled his face, a scar over a permanently closed eye making the remaining dark bead all the more intense. His arms, though, were still thick with muscle, a pair of thick cold bands over his wrists, and though his mustache and mane were white, they were thicker than that of many younger men.

Barrago the Indomitable, never titled a king, but with a better bloodline he may have become a shan-yu, once.

"The King of the Left has the truth of it. Bataar, we pledged many of our best warriors to bolster your own. You said you would crush the northern forces of the Han and take the Emperor's capital. And then we would move south to share in your spoils before spreading to seize the whole of China.

"Instead you return defeated, the warriors we pledged dead. And nothing to show for the campaign but a single slave," Barrago ground out.

"There goes the title 'undefeated' from your list of achievements, brother," Unegan put in.

"I did crush their armies, they defeated me in the Pass through trickery," Bataar answered, temper in check.

"Yes a single soldier with a single arrow was it?" A young chieftain next to Unegan put in.

"A cannon," Bataar corrected.

"Which apparently makes all the difference, between the victory of the Huns, and a crushing defeat," Unegan put in.

"Yes I suppose a man who has never fought a war against those who aren't vastly weaker than him would be curious about defeat," Bataar spoke to Unegan. The younger brother's mouth smiled, his eyes glittered.

"Enough! The horde was defeated, the question is what now?" Yomo the Giant demanded, slamming a thick fist into the ground. He was more than a head taller than Bataar, and all muscle. Not a chieftain, but a representative of the far northern tribes who could not make the summit. There was no great intelligence in the eyes beneath his thick brow, but four tribes had not given their votes to a fool.

"It's too late to press the war. But the Hans will still be in disarray; if we raise another army for the next campaign season, we can still take advantage of the destruction of their northern army," Bataar said. Silence greeted this and he saw too many men exchanging glances around Unegan, Barrago, and the King of the Right.

As expected Barrago spoke first, eye narrowed as he leaned forward.

"Do you think yourself an Emperor to be so bold Bataar? We gave you an army and you lost it. Lost near every one of those great warriors, for next to nothing! And you now have the audacity to ask us for more?

"This Summit was not called to throw more warriors into your feud with the Emperor. We are here to demand satisfaction from the man who squandered the boon we gave him," Barrago declared.

"It's called losing brother, it's when you don't get to have your own way afterwards," Unegan chimed. He quieted when Barrago glared at him. The sight was enough to make Bataar not quite want to shove a sword through the old chieftain's face.

He hadn't expected them to fall into line. He was no merchant, but he knew you didn't start haggling by asking for less than you wanted. Still, it irked him to be defied like this.

"My past wars have already enriched all your tribes. Slaves, plunder, and unity, have made the Huns lords of the North in truth as well as name once again. What do you desire that I have not already given you?

"If any of you want the mantle of Modu, then let that man step outside with me," Bataar demanded, his eyes sweeping over the lot of them with measured ferocity. Most of them flinched away. Unegan held his gaze, Barrago leaned into it, and another simply looked back unimpressed.

"*Yawn* Enough already. We all know what we want, that he is willing to give. Let's just move along and get this done. These pissing contests bore me," Coyot the Beast yawned.

He did not resemble his namesake. He was younger than Bataar, and had hair shades lighter than most Huns, a hint of some foreign ancestor. His face was long and handsome, though stubble ridden. Coyot's build was thin, almost scrawny, with his cloak behind his shoulders. Everything in his posture spoke of inattentive laziness.

He was easily one of the most dangerous men here. They all listened when he continued to speak.

"You almost died, nearly cutting the bloodline holders in half. We demand you take a wife and get busy restoring the royal line of descent from a twig, into a tree," Coyot finished.

"Are you suggesting your own daughter?" Bataar asked for the sake of politeness. Those pale brown eyes opened all the way.

"No," the Beast answered firmly. With the word the built up pressure burst as men began to declare their offerings and denounce others.

Bataar wished he could tune them out. This was going to be a long summit.

Watching his former ward sulk while trying to not look sulky, Old Moon smiled and waited.

XXX

Mulan liked horses. In fact she had been told in veiled terms she was far too interested in them. After all, riding a horse around or tending the stables were not proper tasks for a young lady. At times she thought the interest was mostly tolerated by a shortage of young men to tend the horses.

And for a long time her best friend was a horse.

She liked dogs, too, but there was just a difference between the two.

But this… this was a bit much, she thought, staring over the summit's horse market.

Makeshift horse stalls were on every side. Free space being used for sellers to show the horses' mettle, or there a Hun inspecting a horse with such thoroughness a Chinese stable master would stutter.

'Ancestors, did he just-? !'

"Magnificent! The Turkmen breed is dominant in her, but you can see the steppes, and a hint of Persian," Gaitan remarked, awed over the mare watching them impassively.

"She's pretty," Qorchi chimed in. Gaitan nodded agreement, looking at the horse.

She had known Huns were crazy about horses, but it seemed she was only just grasping the extent of the obsession.

Hours, hours they had been here, to the point she no longer even noticed the smell. And Gaitan hadn't bought anything!

The owner talked with Gaitan over the mare's descent; it would have interested her more if she hadn't gotten tired of hearing so many genealogies.

Still, she had to admit Qorchi was right – the black mare with the white foot was beautiful. She stepped up to the crude fence and the horse turned to watch her. Leaning in to try and get a better look, it imitated her gesture. She moved along the fence and it followed.

Frowning, she stepped back, and it did the same. Huffing at the mare's sense of humor, it whinnied in answer.

"Maral's just like a horse," Qorchi laughed. The mare and woman turned to look at him. He gulped as she tapped a foot and the mare scraped the grass.

"Gaitan, your slave is chasing the boy," the horse trader told him.

"So I see. Good luck finding a buyer," he said, before setting off at a brisk pace. And kicking into a run when Qorchi ducked a fence into a grey shaggy stallion's pen.

Suppressing a smile, Mulan began to duck under the fence after him, not wanting to spook the horse with a vault, when someone grabbed her arm. With a painful jerk she was thrown back the way she came, sprawling in the mud churned up by men and horses.

A particularly hairy Hun loomed over her.

"You stay away from my horses slave, they're not for the likes of you," he told her, pointing. Mulan said nothing, pulling herself up, only to be pulled up by Gaitan as he came up to her.

"She meant no offense, she was focused on minding the boy," Gaitan said, stepping up.

"You are not nice," Qorchi declared. The trader looked down to see the boy had returned and was glaring up at him.

"Your tribe may forget, but I know my father's wisdom. Away with the lot of you," he said with a wave of his arm. Gaitan scowled and made to say something, but Maral had already stomped off, Qorchi trailing behind her.

When he caught up, she glared at him.

"What was that about?" she demanded.

"You're a Han and a slave. Slaves aren't worthy of horses and the Han are inferior horsemen. Some believe it's bad luck to let someone like you near a horse at all.

"It's foolish, but I've never heard of anyone having a shortage of fools," Gaitan explained, running a hand through his hair.

"I can ride as well as any Hun," she ground out.

"Hah, I'm sorry – you may be an exceptional Han, but I will believe that boast when I see it. I'd wager all the silver in my purse for those odds," Gaian laughed.

Suddenly he felt rather cold, and saw her glaring painful death at him. Oh my, she was reminding him of Choeten!

"I believe you Maral," Qorchi piped up, grabbing her hand. She made to shake his hand off, but stopped to Gaitan's surprise.

"Thank you, Qorchi," she said with a sigh.

'Is that the first time she said his name?' Gaitan wondered. Still, she was clearly put out, and Gaitan was not the sort of man to leave a lady unsatisfied.

Since his usual methods for turning such a situation around were very much off the table, he resorted to something drastic.

"Maral would you like to go shopping somewhere else?" he asked, already regretting it.

XXX

A ghostly horse stalked outside of the meeting tent, an equally ethereal blade of grass lodged between its lips. Scuffing the ground to no effect, it glanced up and down the tent length. Sniffing the air, its grass swung ponderously as it frowned. But finally it moved on.

As it rounded the corner, a lump of unruly grass popped up, revealing Mushu with sod strapped to his body. Cri-kee popped up from a single hole in the sod.

"Perimeter bypassed, infiltration commencing now. GOGOGOGO!" Mushu exclaimed as they dashed the remaining distance to slide under the tent.

"-Daughter can butcher a goat before a man can recite his ancestry to the fourth generation!" a Hun yelled as they slipped behind the back of an enormous chieftain. Mushu leaned down, holding a finger to his lips for Cri-kee. The cricket chirped before slapping a hand over its mouth. The giant glanced over his shoulder but was distracted by a shout.

"My tribe's losses were second only to Bataar's! A royal match is fair compensation!"

"All you achieved was losing more. Fortune's favor is shown by those who loss less. My daughter is a woman among women, she can charm a falcon from the sky and weave grass into gloves!" a chieftain challenged.

"Your bloodline is shit! Never has your line achieved greatness. Mediocre and merely adequate, from the dawn of time to today!" one of Coyot's supporters shouted.

"My daughters' mothers' each gave four sons, each! Any one of them will restore the royal line to abundance. My Shan-Yu, you can take your pick from them," one of Unegan's spoke up.

"Are we to strive for quantity of princes? Or quality?" a barrel-chested Hun with silver hair and a short mustache said, getting to his feet.

"I offer my eldest daughter," he continued.

"The widow?"

"She's thirty-two! Far too old to bear strong princes!" one of the Unegan's flankers shouted. The King of the Left remained silent, looking reserved and calm through the ruckus.

"So you say! I present my grandson, Ruga!" he announced, stepping aside. The bodyguard behind him rose; a massive man to rival the twins. He wore an open black fur vest that his mane of black hair mingled with. His hairy chest was marred by four claw-mark scars, and his large chin framed by a very masculine mustache.

"Ruga! Who killed his first foe at twelve! His first wolf at seven. Who singlehandedly breached the north wall of Cankror, slaying thirty men! Who killed the fabled Blind Bear of the Stone Spear with only a dagger and his bare hands. Who stole a prince from a party of fifty bodyguards, slaying half them, and eluding the rest with three arrow wounds in his back and the prince over his shoulders!

"This is what she made with the seed of my dearest and departed comrade! Let your meager offerings of girls and untested virgins fill the steppes with princes. But let her give our Shan-Yu an heir, and we shall have a war-leader who will he be able to knock the Wall down, with his bare fists!" the short chieftain proclaimed as Ruga stood stoic and silent.

"And my lord, I had it on good authority from the late husband. My girl does not leave a man… wanting," the chieftain blinked at Bataar.

"Nor half your tribe since he died!" a scrawny chieftain called. The old man and the young turned to look at him.

"Are you calling my daughter a whore! ?" the chief demanded.

"No, I never said his mother got paid. Guess she was so relieved not having to see his father's little GACK!" the smirker gagged as Ruga grabbed his neck and pulled him from his spot in the circle and lifted him into the air.

The helmed bodyguard behind the mocker got to his feet, reaching for his sword. Ruga looked at him, the sword went back in its sheath.

"Put him down lad!" his grandfather nearly shrieked.

"Why! ?" Ruga demanded in a high voice that raised even Bataar's eyebrow. Something growled in Ruga's ear. Turning around, swinging the choking man, he saw a spirit bear was looming over him, it's head brushing the top of the tall tent, pulling back its lips.

"You might want to put him down," Old Moon advised. Ruga dropped the mocker, who nearly bounced before lying down, coughing. The bear melted back into smoke, but not before pointing a claw at the hairy Hun, and then its teeth.

Silence descended over the tent. Unegan cleared his throat, standing as everyone returned to their proper places.

"My fellow chieftains, King, and mighty brother. We are riding in a wide circle and arriving nowhere.

"We could haggle, and nearly kill each other, for days before reaching some compromise or other. But, we are watched by foreigners, outsiders, and subject tribes that seek to see if we are still masters of these lands. Delay shows division and weakness; but swiftness, shows unity and strength!

"You cannot see this, for you seek the advancement of your bloodlines along with the well being of our nation. But my daughters are barred from their uncle's bed, so I see only the interest of the Hun Confederation before me," Unegan announced.

"So you would pick the bride?" Coyot asked.

"No. I say we turn to someone above our petty squabbles and fleeting ambitions. We turn to a shaman!

"But not just any shaman will do. The eldest. The most powerful. The wisest. And the one who knows our Shan-Yu best. Old Moon!" Unegan declared pointing at the shaman sitting near the circles center.

"You forgot most handsome!" Old Moon shot back, shaking a fist.

"Old Moon, I would call on you to beseech Sun, Moon, and the ancestors; show us the way to a new dawn," Unegan proclaimed. The chieftains murmured mostly in approval. Coyot and Bataar watched Unegan thoughtfully as he accepted some applause graciously.

Old Moon perked at the choice of words; it fit with his plan. But why was this one stepping into his stream now of all times?

Still, it didn't change his plans, he concluded, pulling out a pinch of dust from a pouch as he got to his feet.

XXX

"These men aren't Huns," Mulan observed as they walked down a busy roadway flanked by tents and stalls.

"Of course. These men come from the west to trade. Mostly Persians and Turkmen, good business partners since the early days of our migration to the steppes. But there are some others as well," Gaitan told her.

Yes, looking at the traders she could spot two kinds of them.

One group had attire closer to the Huns, but lighter in coloring. They all wore some kind of hats as well, from head wraps of white to big fur caps. Unlike the tunics the Huns seemed to favor, they wore two layers, a plain coat with intricate trimming and a tunic of seemingly better quality.

The others stood out much more, and her attention lingered on them. This group wore head wrappings wrapped with one end folded in a fan-shape at the top of the head, with a trailing piece of cloth thrown over the shoulder. Full beards covered their faces; the wealthier the man looked, the longer his oiled beard seemed to be. Their clothes looked to be linen, but were dyed in bright colors, and their robes were just as bright with trimmings of intricate design from what she could see. They had broad belts and trousers that puffed out from their legs as they walked about or cried their wares to the Huns. Their broad belts shone with gold silver or gold, jewelry adorning their necks, and fingers.

"Quite the sight, aren't they? They say a Persian wears his wealth because he doesn't trust anyone to hold it for him!" Gaitan laughed.

"I've heard of Persia, a distant kingdom at the edge of the world," Mulan said, watching as a fat Persian walked by, followed by a man in strange armor.

"Don't say that to them. They think Persia is the center of the world," Gaitan advised.

"China is the Middle Kingdom," she said reflexively.

"To them China is the edge of the world. And unlike your people they actually go out and see the world beyond their walls. And they call themselves an Empire – don't call it kingdom where they can hear," he advised her.

Mulan accepted that, looking over the weapons and foreign goods on display. There wasn't much, but she realized the tents were the real shops. Younger men, presumably sons or apprentices, manned the booths, but little was sold. What happened was the older and usually fatter Persians would pull a Hun aside and take him into the tent.

'They feel the Huns out before showing them what they have to sell,' Mulan realized.

Mulan paused in front of a booth selling tapestries, admiring an intricate pattern of bight colors on a hung rug. She wondered what they had inside the tent.

"Yeah, no one makes a rug like the Persians," Gaitan said, walking up. He let her study it, seemingly wanting to touch but unwilling to. Qorchi had found a smaller one nearby, this one depicting a stylized lion holding a sword, which he was pretending to duel with an imaginary sword.

"A fine selection you have made there," a man spoke up in a foreign accent. Mulan looked up to see a thin Persian man addressing her. He was young with only a short black beard and only a single gold ring on his clasped fingers. But his clothes proclaimed him a man of means to her eyes. She stepped back from the carpet and bowed.

"You are Han?" the Persian seemed to realize. His interest wandered to Gaitan, who was standing off to the side.

'He knows I'm a slave, not a customer worth his attention,' she realized.

"YOU SHIRTLESS SAVAGE!" a roar stunned her. Alert, she glanced around, and noticed Qorchi had darted behind her legs. A massive Persian man, tall and fat with a large head wrap and long beard, stormed through the booth stomping his booted feet.

"You perfumed, plump piece of goat shit," Gaitan sneered, turning to face the Persian.

The two squared off, a fascinating contrast. One with a black bristling beard, trussed up in finery of light green trimmed with gold, his fat hands glimmering rings. And Gaitan mostly bare, with his earring and sword the only adornment.

"As ever, you are rude to your betters," the Persian growled, poking the Hun in the chest.

"Show me my betters and I'll be polite," Gaitan shot back.

"We have unfinished business," the Persian reminded him. Gaitan grinned, placing a hand on his sword's hilt.

"That's right, what you promised if I was ever so unfortunate as to see your woman scented beard again," Gaitan recalled. The Persian chuckled deeply reaching into his robe.

"Oh dear," the young Persian muttered next to Mulan.

'That poor merchant is going to be slaughtered,' Mulan realized.

The Persian whipped out… a small blue glass bottle?

"The finest you have ever tasted, guaranteed!" the Persian thundered. Gaitan's mustache twitched; so did the hair around the fat man's mouth. Clapping each other on the shoulder, they roared in laughter before Gaitan pulled the man into a hug. Soon they were laughing, slapping each other's backs.

Mulan watched with a slack jaw while the young man rubbed his temples, muttering. Breaking apart, the Persian looked to his young associate.

"Humayun, set a bottle of the good wine to warming! We must share warm wine with old friends feared lost!" the merchant declared.

"At once, Uncle Caspar," the young man bowed, before running back into the tent.

"That's the boy? He didn't even have a proper mustache last I saw him!" Gaitan exclaimed as the two walked into the cover of the booth.

"You're getting old, my friend, you should get yourself some sons, like your wise Persian friend," Caspar insisted.

"That's different, you have a business to hand down. Money flows right through these hands of mine. What is there to pass down?" Gaitan pointed out.

"Hmph, when I heard a mountain fell on the Shan-Yu's army I prayed to Ahura Mazda for your safety, you know," Caspar said.

"Really? You would have a foreign god watch over me?" Gaitan asked, looking skeptical.

"Of course! You have no sons, you savage! If you die I will never get back the money you owe me!" Caspar pointed at him accusingly.

"Bah, you make greed a skill!" Gaitan cursed.

"Yes, if greed were skill and ambition a shield, my glory would surpass Cyrus himself!" the merchant proclaimed, lifting a fist. The two men resumed laughing.

"Are they still going to kill each other?" Qorchi asked.

"No, apparently they are both just overly dramatic," Mulan sighed, ruffling the boy's hair. Realizing what she did, she stepped away, not that the boy noticed. His eyes were on the merchant as he noticed them, and his gaze settled on Mulan. He advanced on her slowly, forestalling Qorchi's opening mouth by tossing the boy a piece of red candy he whipped out from somewhere.

Mulan stood her ground as the exotic man walked up to her. She could smell his perfume, a pleasant if understated scent she could not quite place. Some foreign scent, perhaps of his homeland? The former soldier was surprised but didn't show it when he bowed slightly to her.

"A flower of the Dragon Kingdom blooms on the steppes. I am Caspar of Merv, a merchant of fine cloths, cloth products, and oils of the highest quality, it is an honor to meet you," he greeted.

"Uh, I'm… Maral," she answered, not quite looking at his face as he lifted it. He smiled through his beard, turning back to Gaitan.

"Already given a Hun name, eh? Well, it would seem you were taking my advice before I said it! Humayun, you lazy frog's son! Where is that wine, I need to toast my friend's new woman!" the merchant barked.

Mulan didn't blush at this; she smacked her face. It sounded off and looking between her fingers saw the reason was Gaitan doing the same thing. That made her chuckle as the Persian laughed at the display.

"She is not my woman! Just because I end up with her following me around everyone assumes it! I am never, ever getting married!

"And she belongs to Bataar!" Gaitan growled, pointing at Mulan. Caspar looked at her, seemingly stunned.

"Shan-Yu Bataar has finally taken a paramour? And you, a well known seducer are named as her bodyguard?" the Persian was stunned. _Now_ Mulan was red in the face.

"I am not-" she began, but the merchant cheered, embracing a confused Gaitan.

"Glorious, you are moving up in the world! How much trust he must have in you to not only guard her from other men, but your own wandering manhood!

"I knew befriending you was a good investment, but I thought you had peaked!

"And now there will be a queen, one with hopefully very expensive tastes. And you, his trusted friend, will point her in the direction of high quality products at reasonable prices.

"Hamayun, you bearded woman, where is that wine! ?" he demanded joyfully.

"He's right behind you," Mulan said. It was true, the slimmer Persian stood behind his uncle holding a silver tumbler in one hand and a pair of bronze cups in the other. He was quickly divested of them as Caspar plucked them.

"Very good, you may yet be a success, despite the whole fool situation. Now, my good and politically connected friend and I must talk of things great and small. Entertain the lovely paramour, give her half off on anything in the tent," Caspar said, before walking off behind the tent, Gaitan following.

"This way Miss Maral, you can bring the boy. But he must not touch… anything," Humayun sighed. Qorchi had finished the candy, though most of it seemed to be a sticky red goop on his hands now.

"Of course," Mulan agreed gently grabbing Qorchi's upper arm. She had spent enough time sweeping the pottery shop after Little Brother chased a cat through it to understand this.

Her mood dampened, Mulan wondered how her dog was doing.

Humayun held the tent flap open for them. It was like stepping into another world.

Mulan was stunned, looking around. There was no trace of the Huns here; even the ground was completely covered by plain but thick dark colored rugs. Somewhere incense was burning, replacing the smell of the summit with a sweet and strange aroma. Looking at the young Persian standing ready to the side, she realized she looked quite out of place now.

Persian rugs surrounded the tent walls, folded over on their stands to display. Bolts of fabric stood in proud rows, shades and colors of all kinds. Thread bundles were arrayed on two tables with sets of needles and tools of the craft laid out on display. A third table held a series of bottles, clay and glass.

As fascinating as these were she was drawn to the area directly across from the entrance, a place of pride behind the tables of wares. If Qorchi wasn't as enthralled, he knew from experience when not to press a woman. Behind her Humayun smiled, rubbing his hands together – nothing like a customer broadcasting what they wanted.

'Oh, wait, she has a discount. This could be bad,' his good mood abruptly soured.

"Our selection of fine dresses, from across the world! Though perhaps for someone of your station less is more and a finery that is a… bit less fine? More practical?" the young salesman suggested as she stepped up to where the dresses stood on display.

She inspected a bead-adorned piece of underwear, looking a bit dubious. And she thought _her_ people fancy after spending time with the Huns. What women needed this extravagance for something hardly anyone would see?

"What you have there is an Arabian dancer's uniform. Quite a seller among newlyweds," he told her. She looked to the small skirt below with a long piece of dyed cloth hanging down the center.

"Where's the rest of it," she asked?

"That's all of it," he answered. Mulan cocked her head, and blushed as she got it, and smacked Qorchi from touching the near loincloth.

"Perhaps something a bit more conservative? An Egyptian gown, made in Syria, but of quality and style equal to the Delta I assure you," Humayun said.

It was a definite improvement, in that her mother would not disown her on sight for wearing it. Mostly white and in two pieces. Short open sleeves, the neck cut wide showing off shoulders. But it looked like it would show some of her stomach…

"More coverage? Well this next one would impress any fine Persian woman, and she would wear it right into the temple!" Humayun assured her.

It was more covering, and brightly dyed. But her attention drifted to the nearby table, laden with jars and bottles. Qorchi followed, the short bit of clothes shopping enough to make him eager for anything else.

"Ah, fine oils! A wide selection as well," Humayun said as she inspected the bottles and jars.

"Scented oils, both for baths and to be rubbed right into the skin. The scent lingers longer than other methods.

"Or for the hair, not only a scent but giving form and luster to even the most element abused locks. Fine hair like yours would shine like… ebony fire?

"Or these fine mixtures. Guaranteed to smooth your skin with regular rubbings. When mixed with a skilled massage, good becomes fantastic," the Persian told her as she looked over the vessels. She was surprised there was any demand for such things among the Huns.

Then she saw it out of the corner of her eye; it must have been more obvious than she thought, because the merchant's apprentice followed her eyes.

He swept over to where it hung and held out a sleeve.

"You like? Only one in stock right now, high quality Chinese dress, complete with accessories. Genuine Han tailoring, fit for the ladies of the Dragon Court itself," he told her smiling.

Not quite, unless the fashion of court was behind her own town, Mulan thought. But still, it was beautiful. Mostly a deep blue, but not dark, with thin gold patterns on the sleeves and a lighter blue under-layer showing through. Characters for beauty and grace had been painted delicately on the silk. And it was not ostentatious, and stepping around it she saw a crescent moon pattern along the edge.

But most of all, it was _home_. A piece of where she had come from, amidst these wonders of a strange, wider, world.

"It is very reasonably priced. And with your discount, you will make my uncle weep to part with it for such a low sum," Humayun told her, following in her footsteps.

"I can't afford it," she told him.

"Nonsense, lines of credit are very reasonable. Just think of what the Shan-Yu will say when he sees you in this," the young man insisted. He knew immediately he had said something wrong.

Mulan scowled at the dress, imagining just that.

'He would delight in taking anything I value from me. Like Khan, like my father's sword,' she reminded herself. These barbarian clothes she wore weren't truly hers, no more than the tent she slept in. But at least that meant they held no power over her.

The pain seeped back in, seeing the warlord riding her friend as if he had every right to do so. And her father's sword. The sword she had stolen from her father in the dead of night, and had now lost to the son of his old foe. The Shan-Yu's acts, but the results of her failures.

"Thank you, but there is nothing here I want," she sighed, letting the boy tug her out of the tent. Humayun watched as they disappeared through the tent opening.

"Uncle will not be pleased," the young man bemoaned the lost sale.

XXX

Glittering silver smoke coiled out from the fire in the tent's center as Old Moon clapped in a slow rhythm, swaying to his own beat. Beside him, two younger but still gray shamans shook fistfuls of dangling eadols.

"Sun! Moon! Ancestors honored! Ancestors remembered! Ancestors forgotten! Spirits of stone! Spirits of soil! Spirits of blue sky! Spirits of storm! Spirits of water! Spirits of fire!

"Powers of the people and the land! I, Old Moon, eldest shaman of the Hun beseech you for guidance!

"You have visited disaster upon our hosts! Your disfavor is clear. We come now to make life from death, a prince to carry the Huns forward into the days yet to come.

"Yet the Circle is divided – who shall be the vessel for the line of Bataar, son of Tianlinn, of the line of Modu the Unifier?

"Show us the path on this tract-less land! Reveal that which is hidden! Let discord be replaced with concord!

"I beseech you in the name of pacts ancient since before the Han drove us from Mokar. The pacts kept in the hard lands of this north that let us thrive anew. The pacts that shamans once used to invest Modu as Shan-Yu.

"I call upon you, Sun!" Old Moon chanted. At the word a sunburst formed in the smoke over the fire, glittering before dissolving.

"I call upon you, Moon!" Old Moon cried. A crescent moon formed in the same manner.

"This is going to take awhile, isn't it?" Yomo whispered down to the man sitting next to him. Bataar resisted the urge to rub his eyes as Old Moon called upon the Wolf.

XXX

"Ah, magnificent, isn't it?" Gaitan proclaimed as the trio walked to the crest of a hill. They had reached the edge of the gathering, and below them a horse corral was set up with a crowd of Huns milling about it.

Qorchi cheered at the sight; Mulan looked on impassively.

"Another horse market?" she asked.

"No, horse racing! No summit is complete without racing between the tribes," he told her. As they descended, she saw it was mostly young and older men, but there were a lot of young women too. Most of the women on the corral fence watching as the young men inspected horses.

"Those aren't their horses?" she asked as Gaitan leaned against the fence and she climbed up on it for a better look.

"No, the race is for horsemanship, and using an unfamiliar mount shows how skilled you are with horses, not just your own mount," Gaitan said.

Qorchi climbed up beside Mulan as she held out a hand, making soft horse call. A hairy brown stallion turned to regard her; she smiled in encouragement, and with a huff, the horse clopped over. Gaitan watched with interest as the horse let her stroke its neck.

"Very good, I wish I had an apple for you, or some oats," Mulan told it. Qorchi was excited and tugged on the stallion's long mane. Thankfully, the beast seemed more focused on Mulan, sticking its head over the fence between the woman and child.

'I've seen Huns have less luck with unfamiliar mounts,' Gaitan thought. Granted, the races didn't receive the most spirited beasts.

"You were right not to pick that one Qoro," a young man laughed nearby.

A trio of young Huns rode up to them, stopping as Gaitan stepped up between them and the two on the fence. Their leader, a long-haired youth with a short, thin mustache, smiled, looking past the warrior to Mulan.

She looked back at him, sitting on top of the fence with one hand on the horse's head.

"This seems to be a fine horse," she said. He laughed and his two companions joined in.

"A horse so easily bent to a Han's hand is not much of a horse," one of his friends, wearing a blunt helm, snickered.

"Especially a Han _woman_," the other flunky, whose head was shaven, put in.

"And isn't that a dangerous spot for you?" the leader finished.

"I know how to handle horses," she protested.

"Not what he meant, right Chuluun?" Helmed Grunt asked his boss.

"Right, Qoro. My friends and I were worried to see you perched so far off the ground. Everyone knows what delicate dolls Han women are. If you were to fall you'd be cracked all over," Chuluun laughed.

"Enough, off with you," Gaitan stepped forward, raising a hand. The two flunkies turned their horses, but Chuluun leered at Mulan. He turned away, but she reddened at that look.

"I am as much of a rider as any of you!" she shouted at their backs. They stopped, and turned their mounts about. She knew she should probably bow, and beg forgiveness for her outburst. The power the Huns had over her and a lifetime of lessons on how to treat men in public told her to do it.

But she was so tired of being beaten in all these little things. She glared into his amused eyes, until something flashed in them. He blinked and looked to his friends, to find them looking at him.

'Well?' she asked silently, tilting her head as she tugged the stallion's head gently to her side. He laughed, smacking his leg, a moment later his friends joined in. Her glare faltered under the familiar sound of mockery.

"Sir, you need to get your money back. You got a crazy slave," Chuluun laughed, making to turn away. Mulan jumped down from the fence and stalked over to him.

"I am not his slave. It took your Shan-Yu to claim me, and I can already see I know horses better than you," she said, looking at him atop his mount.

"Well…" Chuluun said dumbly.

"Why not prove it then? The race will start soon, show us your mighty Han horsemanship?" Qoro suggested, smirking.

"She belongs to the Shan-Yu! If she gets hurt he could have our heads," the hairless one objected.

"Gaitan, would that happen?" Mulan asked, turning to him. The warrior shrugged. He doubted Bataar would mind if a horse crushed her skull. _He_ would though – dangerous enemy she might be, but this girl was interesting.

"I won't fall, and I won't lose to the likes of you," she assured them. Now Chuluun seemed to swell in confidence, apparently taking Gaitan's answer as license.

"Well a wager is traditional. When we win, we each get a kiss. The kind you get from a wife," he practically giggled. Where those pimples by his hairline?

"And if I win… I get all the money you three have on you," Mulan said, taking the first thing that came to mind. Qoro grimaced at that but his boss smiled.

"See you on the finish line, puckered up," he laughed as he and his friends rode to where the riders were congregating. The stallion blew out its lips after them.

"You have to win, you can't kiss them," Qorchi declared solemnly. He tried to fold his arms over his chest stoically, but the position left him hanging and nearly falling. He grabbed onto the stallion's mane, tugging it harshly. The stallion whinnied angrily, glaring at him.

"And what is this supposed to accomplish?" Gaitan asked the woman glaring after the boys. She looked at him, and for a moment it was like that day she had fought his ruler on the river's edge.

"I have my reasons," she told him, before climbing into the corral.

XXX

"And I call upon the Mouse scurrying through the grass!" Old Moon called out as the image appeared in the smoke. Glancing at the expressions on the chieftains' faces, he decided he had strung things along far enough. Among the many secrets of the shamans was how little of their rituals were strictly necessary. Though it seemed his assistants were also getting irritated.

'Time for the main event,' Old Moon smiled, pulling out a handful of powder and throwing it into the fire. The smoke burst forth anew, curling around him in shimmering streams.

"Now show us the answer we seek!" he demanded. The smoke withdrew from him, condensing over the nearly dead fire. It formed an image, a place.

"The Tung Shao Pass?" Bataar asked, leaning forward.

"The site of your defeat, leading us to this meeting," Unegan supplied.

"No there is something more!" Old Moon insisted.

The smoke shifted, the Pass remaining, but closer, a shape in it moving. The shape growing as if drawing nearer, while the pass diminished. They could see it clearly now, moving gracefully in the "snow".

"A deer?" a chieftain spoke up. Old Moon grinned and raised his hand, only for a chieftain to stand up.

"Ahah! My daughter's spirit token is a deer! She is the one!" the man proclaimed.

"Nonsense, my daughter was attacked by a deer when she was a child. It's obviously her."

"My wife craved venison while she was pregnant!"

"My niece collects antlers!"

"Ruga killed a deer when he was only six years old, with nothing but a stick and a rock!"

"-the best venison stew you have ever tasted!" they shouted over one another. Old Moon watched them, stunned, before smacking his face. He snapped his fingers and the image changed to a deer hide.

"Oh, a hide!"

"It's a hunter of deer! The mother of a great deer hunter. I win!"

"Grandfather, please stop."

"My daughter is skilled with treating hides. Sews them into fine cloaks."

"Wait, I think there is something we are missing here!" Yomo insisted, getting to his feet.

"Ya think?" Old Moon remarked. The giant looked closely at the image of a deer hide as it wrapped around the silhouette of a woman.

"Deer hide. Woman. Deer… hide. I've got it!" he exclaimed, punching his palm.

"There is a woman hiding among the deer, and she is the destined bride! To the horses!" Yomo shouted. Barrago and the Kings looked at him with scowls while Bataar just closed his eyes.

"No, you idiots! It's a woman who wears a deer hide! And she's also connected to the Pass. And her name might mean… deer," Old Moon drew out.

He felt Bataar's attention fall on him.

'Oh, he knows where this is going,' Old Moon noted. The death glare he received sent a clear message as far as Old Moon was concerned. 'Don't you dare, you devilishly handsome old man.'

'I dare,' his smile back said.

With a final clap, the mist condensed in the figure, forming a face briefly but long enough to turn so they all could see it.

"A Han? !" Barrago roared, sitting up straighter.

"The sole plunder taken from the failed invasion. Set in the path by destiny and kept at his side against all precedent. The woman Maral, shall be wife to Bataar, and mother to his heirs!" Old Moon proclaimed. The smoke glittered one last time, making the woman's figure seem like a mass of stars. Then the magic was past, the lighting returning to normal.

"Didn't see that coming," Coyot remarked, leaning back.

"This is an outrage!" Barrago growled from his spot.

"Watch your tongue, Barrago, my mother was an outsider. The mother I share with our Shan-Yu," Unegan spoke up.

"That was different, she was the last wife," Barrago growled.

"Yes, it was never Tianlinn's intention for me to rule was it?" Bataar spoke up, watching Barrago.

"To pass over the women of the leadership for a mere slave, is an insult to the entire Circle," Barrago pressed angrily.

"Exactly, that's why it works," Coyot sighed. All attention falling on him, the man rolled his eyes getting to his feet slowly.

"Listen, you all want this marriage to move up in the Confederation, or secure your current positions. But even more than that you are worried that the balance will tip against you as someone gets a leg up on you.

"This Han girl. She brings nothing to the Circle; the balance between us remains unchanged. What the Huns need is stability, not a renewal of grudges and rivalries. That's probably why the spirits have chosen her over your women," Coyot explained. As he sat down, several of his supporters stood.

"Hear him, hear him well!"

"It is the will of Sun and Moon," his vassals called.

Those seated near Bataar looked to their simmering leader, then to the shaman, who gave a small nod. Most of them stood, earning a cast glare from their ruler.

"This is folly! You would have a half-Han lead the Huns? When two great nations are placed beside one another they are destined for war, until one has been crushed and one stands triumphant!" Barrago insisted. There were murmurs around the circle.

"Barrago, you are not a king," Yomo pointed out.

"A fact you seem to forget," Bataar's black mood cracking as he smirked at the old chieftain.

Unegan cleared his throat and stood, the attention of all those in the tent falling on the King of the Left. Looking to his scowling brother, the handsome man smiled.

"Let the wedding preparations begin at once. The kusmiss is on me!" Unegan announced. Cheers rose from the ranks as the chieftains got to their feet, clapping him on the back for the generosity. Not all of them though.

Old Moon watched Barrago and his closest vassals sweep out, his rage almost visible at what he no doubt saw as the latest slight against him. He could be trouble, but not too much.

Bataar remained seated, seemingly oddly torn between trying to kill Old Moon or Unegan with his glare. Old Moon smiled in answer, and received the mouthed word "tonight", before Bataar rose and took his leave.

Finally there was Coyot, relaxing in his spot, his own vassals already gone. The laid back man was watching Unegan. Old Moon turned his own attention to the King enjoying the momentary popularity.

Unegan could have drawn this out, and hurt Bataar's standing. A bride and new heirs would undermine his own power. So why?

What was he plotting behind those empty smiles?

XXX

The tent canvas ripped close to the ground and Mushu charged through. Cri-kee followed after the dragon.

"Bug boy things have gone from bad to worse. Time to abort all operations and make a break for it," Mushu said.

"There is no time to waste!" the dragon shouted down to the cricket as he panicked. Turning to run off without looking, the dragon collided with something thick and hairy. Pushed himself back from the obstruction, he craned his neck to see a spirit bear looking down at him.

"Oh this is rich, you think a bear can take a dragon?" Mushu laughed, a bit strained, bearing his tiny claws. A series of roars drew his attention to the bears surrounding him. Cri-kee gave an apologetic chirp and slipped off between a pair of hairy legs.

"Oh yeah, eight bears.

…

"Bring it on, Smokey!" he roared, setting one of their feet on fire.

XXX

Mulan sat astride the stallion she had befriended, at the end of a line of mounted Huns. They stood between two poles, their goal on a somewhat distant hill, another pole with a yellow scarf tied to it flapping in the wind.

Mulan glanced to the Huns to her left, some sneaking looks at her. The idiot from before and his friends had others who openly looked, and laughed. Then there were a few who glanced at her only to turn their attention to the yellow scarf.

"Maral," Gaitan said, walking up to her with Qorchi in tow, a yellow scarf trailing from his hands.

"The shaman admits there is no rule saying a Han can't participate, but he isn't happy. He would probably have asked Old Moon just to make sure he wasn't allowed to ban you, but he's at the Hill," Gatian told her, looking over the line up.

"And me being a woman?" Mulan asked, looking to the piece of bright color against the pale blue sky.

"Oh that doesn't matter much. A woman enters every few years, though it's usually the younger races.

"And you should know the real important races are for the younger riders, lots more rules and formality," Gaitan told her.

"It's more important how well children race?" Mulan asked surprised.

"It lets their fathers show off and the shamans draw predictions. Also, a lot of matchmaking will be going on and how those children perform will help determine their worth before the tribes.

"You may think you are good with a horse, but Huns grow up in the saddle. We learn to ride as we learn to walk," he boasted. Mulan doubted that, but she was guessing it wasn't too far from the truth.

"These young men are horsemen who went through those races when younger. This may be more informal, little more than sport for young men yet to prove themselves in battle, but they are good at this if nothing else," Gaitan told her.

Mulan was not pleased by this revelation. Her only consolation was Mushu was not here to freak out or tear into her. However, the sight of that idiot puckering his lips at her was sufficiently bad.

"You can beat them Maral! You shouldn't have to kiss someone dumb like that! My mother says when idiots tried to kiss her when she was young she grabbed their stones. Maybe you can do that?" Qorchi suggested. Gaitan paled a bit at that while Mulan coughed and blushed.

"You belong to the Shan-Yu. If I order them to take this to him, they wouldn't dare pursue the matter," Gaitan offered. Mulan set her face determinedly and shook her head. A horn blew and Gaitan pulled the scarf-waving boy away from the horses as the shaman called.

"Rules are simple. Race only, no fighting! Race to the marked pole and back, first five receive prizes, the rest get nothing! Wind at your backs, young riders," the silver bearded shaman called from the sidelines.

Raising a goat horn to his lips the shaman let loose a blast. The thunder of hooves filled the air as they kicked their horses into motion.

Chuluun pulled ahead of the pack immediately, face split with a grin as his black stallion carried him over the grasses. His friends tailed behind as the pack started to string out and break up on the irregular terrain.

A smooth faced Hun with his hair pulled back by a red cord appeared in his peripheral, making him scowl. Kicking the stallion into greater speed, he closed the distance bringing himself alongside the challenger on a shaggy grey mare.

The other Hun did not look up, even as Chuluun spurred the horse past him.

"Haha!" Chuluun laughed looking back as his friends blocked other challengers. Just barely within the rules, but still allowed. Then Qoro pointed at something, ahead of him.

Looking ahead again his eyes bugged. The Han girl had slipped in front of him! ?

Kicking his horse again, he spurred it faster, drawing closer to her as the ascended the hill, the man on the mare trailing them both. She answered with her own spur, drawing closer to the pole.

Gritting his teeth, the young man turned the horse wide to turn around. But she kept going towards it. She would lose ground turning the beast on the hilltop, maybe even overshoot it.

Mulan jerked as she came close to the pull; the horse, reading her intent, moved with her even as she stood tall as she could in the Hun saddle, grabbing the scarf. It ripped clear, and she was flying down the hill on the stallion.

She looked back and smiled at the livid youth as he tried to spur his mount onward. But it was tiring from the speed he had forced it into so quickly. Another rider passed him.

The finishing poles in lane she held up the scarf, and felt it ripped out of her hand. The same rider who had passed her opponent held up the scarf as he rode past her to cheers from the crowd. She spurred her mount on, and he did the same. The gap was small, but not shrinking.

Mulan cursed as she passed between the pole, close, but still behind the third man.

As the Huns crowded around the winner as he held the scarf aloft, she rode her horse toward the corral. The animal made a huffing sound, shaking its head.

"You ran well," she assured the stallion, scratching his ear.

"Maral, you did it!" Qorchi called out, running up. He stopped short as the horse turned to glare at him.

"Well done," Gaitan told her, walking up.

"I lost," she admitted, disliking the patronizing.

"Lost? You came in second. Only one rider of that entire line bested you," Gaitan pointed out.

"And you don't have to kiss anyone!" Qorchi cheered. Mulan looked around and spotted Chuluun gesturing wildly and yelling at his horse. The poor thing looked so annoyed, she wondered if it would buck him off?

"I'll collect your winnings. Though young fools usually have shallow purses," Gaitan said, patting the side of her horse before walking off.

'That's right, they owe me money,' Mulan realized. She had only pulled that wager out of the air. As a slave, could she even have money or would it go the Shan-Yu?

Well, he couldn't take away the victory, even if it was second place, she concluded. A small smile graced her face as she came down from the horse, stroking its mane. It was hairier and thicker than Khan was. But still a good horse.

The sound of an approaching horse turned her attention away from the friendly animal. It was the victor, accompanied by the shaman.

"You rode well. If you had not pushed your mount so quickly against the fool, it would have been anyone's race," the victor said, bowing his head. Stunned by the words, she just stared as he led his horse past her.

The shaman looked like he smelled something foul but also bowed his head. This time she returned the gesture. That seemed to improve his mood some, more irritated and less sour looking in the face. He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a leather cord, with a piece of white on it.

Holding it out to her, Mulan took it, and saw it was cut like a horse head.

"Carved from the bones of a mighty stallion. May it let you always ride with the spirit you showed this day," he said.

"Thank you," she said, inspecting it.

"It's your prize for second place. I have two more prizes to give," he told her, before turning his back and leaving.

"Put it on!" Qorchi demanded, looking at the charm.

"_You_ put it on," she said, dropping the cord over his head. The boy positively glowed, grabbing the necklace to look at it closely. She laughed softly at his awe over such a simple thing and took the opportunity to lead the horse towards the corral.

Gaitan saw Maral was in a good mood as he carried the purse back in his hands. He had forgiven them one of their coins for one of their purses to carry the money in. As he had thought it was not much, but still, it was something of a prize.

He stopped watching her as she left the corral, Qorchi seemingly awed by an eadol he had gotten from somewhere. She really did look good when she wasn't angry at everything.

The thought made him scowl, remembering Shirchin's reminder.

Beautiful or not, she was dangerous. It may have been luck at the Pass, but she had fought well against Bataar at the river despite being wounded. And had he not just seen her best several young horseman of his nation?

These troubling thoughts were interrupted as a white-haired shaman cut through the crowd, followed by two old women in fine furs and ten warriors lead by Ulaan. The archer pointed to her and the elders shared a look before advancing.

Gaitan frowned, advancing briskly as the elders and warrior moved in on her. What was going on?

"Brother, what is all this?" he demanded. Ulaan watched his comrade approach and tilted is head to the shaman as the two women took places behind the wary Han girl.

"The Circle of Chieftains, by the guidance of spirits great and meek, and with the blessings of Ancestors revered and forgotten, have chosen this woman to marry our Shan-Yu, Bataar the Returned.

"The preparations for the ceremony are to begin at once. The ceremony will take place in one week's time, on the Hill of Eight Bears itself, performed by the venerable and powerful Old Moon before all the Huns and foreigners gathered here," the shaman announced.

Unseen by the Huns, a very battered dragon limped out of the grasses, using a stick for a crutch. The eye that wasn't swollen shut flared in anger as he watched Mulan be led away by the armed escort and old people.

"Oh noooo. Oh no, no, no! This dragon may be down, but he is not out! Not even close! Come on Cri-kee, we have seven days to pull the great escape!" Mushu told his sidekick, before limping back into the tall grass.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well this chapter fought harder than I ever expected. But I just might have won!

For starters some offsite news: A shout out to Edokage for putting this story on tvtropes, very cool. Then we have a fanart in the works from the talented Racheakt. I will post the fanart as a cover here, and you should be able to see it full size on deviantart.

My research even aided by Jazzqueen is probably full of holes, information for the Turkmen was particularly hard to pinpoint. The Persians were easier, but Caspar just ended up coming to life so much more than planned. That was the good surprise writing this chapter.

I can't say I am entirely pleased with this chapter, but at this point it may just be perfectionism kicking in.

Sadly I doubt the next chapter will be any easier! I really need to get this Summit wrapped up so the story focus can narrow back down. Also next chapter we get another look at what is happening south of the Great Wall.


	7. Intended

**Disclaimer:**_**Mulan does not belong to me. It belongs to everyone who loves stories and seeing underdogs surpass expectations, and to Disney.**_

Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant & Jazzqueen

* * *

**Intended**

Mulan was still reeling from the announcement when she was ushered into a tent by the old women. A part of her mind insisted she must have heard wrong, it just wasn't possible. Or a dream? It was certainly less believable than Shang and the boys showing up to rescue her.

They said she was to marry Shan-Yu.

Shit.

She was tempted to pinch her pinky finger, as had been habit as a child when seeing something she didn't readily accept as real. But the sensation of being forced down onto a wood stool was enough to drive the point home.

This was real. She was somehow engaged to the most evil man in all of Asia.

It was worse than her old nightmare of being married off to one of the old men who played checkers in the village all the time.

'What would father think? !' She thought, her thoughts thanking a sharp turn.

"Well, the face is good, fine Han beauty," one of the old women remarked, tapping her chin. A tall one with a long braid and a fur collar leaned closer to look at Mulan's face. Mulan leaned back at the wrinkled woman's intrusion.

"Well at least it's not too round; some of those women seem to be bred to be chinless," the matron remarked with a huff, rearing back up.

"Lovely eyes," a short, chubby elder remarked, shoving the beanpole aside.

"True, true, the hair also has potential. A nice braid, I say, would set it right," a middling built woman with golden beads woven into her elaborate braid put in.

"Nonsense, her hair is too short for a good braid. Besides, it's just the kind of hair that comes to life when being whipped in the wind as you ride past the boys. Silencing their man talk as their jaws drop, watching your beauty be silhouetted on the sky atop a fine mare," the beanpole began, before waxing romantically. All the women in the tent except Mulan seemed to sigh at the thought.

A cough shattered the moment; Mulan was grateful, as this was creepy in both its familiarity and strangeness. Coughing again, Old Moon hobbled in on his staff, reaching Mulan somehow through the group of old women.

"Ah, moving quickly, that's the kind of hustle we don't see in the youngsters these days," the old shaman complimented.

"What are you doing in here, Old Moon?" the short one demanded.

"Why, I simply wanted to be the first to congratulate the bride to be of our Shan-Yu! I was the one to divine their mutual destiny after all," Old Moon said, finding a stool near Mulan's and sitting on it. Mulan leaned towards him, looking intently.

'So, this is his doing?' she thought. A hand was thrust near her face.

"Congratulations! I've worried about that boy for ages, practically raised him myself. You'll be good for him. Sure, he's a little rough around the edges, but strong women love a project. Am I right?" he said to Mulan, before addressing the increasingly irritated old women.

"We were bout to proceed to the physical inspection," the beanpole told him.

"Oh, yes, of course. Don't let me get in your way," he answered, pulling out his kusmiss flask.

The women threw him out.

"I believe I had a flask? !" Old Moon called from outside the flap. One of the other gray hairs threw his kusmiss out after him. Mulan nearly missed the muffled "thank you" as the women turned their attention back to her. She pulled her feet together and sat up straight on reflex.

"Well, let's get on with this. Strip naked, dear, and let's get a good look at you," the beaded woman told her. Mulan was certain her face would burst into flames.

**XXX**

Old Moon huffed as he left the women's tent behind, feeling the pair of spear wives guarding it watching his back.

"Shameful, such disrespect," he grumbled.

'Especially with how useless such thoughts become, with men like Unegan riding under the sky,' he thought somberly. Stopping, he took a swig from his kusmiss skin, and a shadow fell over him.

The old shaman looked up to see Bataar looming over him, hood drawn up against the wind. Wolf eyes glaring at him, the young man turned his back and strode towards the border of the summit. Old Moon sighed, understanding the invitation.

'This will not be pleasant,' the shaman thought as he set out after the mighty Hun.

**XXX**

"Hmm, a bit skinny. She will not have a good time in the birthing tent," the short woman stated.

"Nice form though, His Majesty will be pleased."

"I've seen better, but yes, he'll have no cause for complaint," the women talked amongst themselves as they circled a nude, shivering Mulan, like a flock of vultures.

"Well, at least she's a virgin," the tall one said.

"But her being skinny is worrying. The Shan-Yu is a lot of man after all," the medium one put in.

"As if you would know," One of the other woman out in. That got some laughter from the other women.

"Can I get dressed now?" Mulan asked.

"Certainly, we need to be moving on. Now is there any history of deformity in your family?" the tall elder woman asked.

Mulan ignored that for the moment, snatching up her leggings.

**XXX**

A cold wind was rising as Old Moon followed Bataar up a hill that lay beyond the tents of the summit. The grass here was not beaten down, only trimming given by the herds setting it apart from the rest of the steppes despite the mass of humanity close at hand.

Reaching the top, he saw Bataar making sure they were alone. Satisfied with his survey, the Shan-Yu turned his attention on the old man.

"Explain, and none of your nonsense," the young man demanded. Old Moon paused, having been about to explain why he put a goat in a dress, instead taking a deep breath and looking up at the man before him.

"I thought you said we would talk tonight? And shouldn't you be getting swept up in wedding things too?" Old Moon asked. He received no answer; the grim faced man waited silently.

'No softening this up I suppose,' the shaman thought despondently.

"It was necessary for our people," Old Moon said. His liege was nothing if not stoic, but those words reached his eyes and Old Moon saw it even if no one else could. They were a spark igniting his anger.

"You've been planning this from the start, that's why you insisted I not kill her," Shan-Yu growled.

"No, this plan came later. I did not lie then," Old Moon assured him.

"You lie every day. You even lie with the truth, sending me to my death!" Bataar accused.

"Do you think that was easy! ? Sun and Moon! I raised you from a boy, watched you grow into a man! And I watched that man become more of a monster every season!

"You have your mother's eyes, your father's vision, Bharbo's strength, but I fear your soul is kin to Burilegi," Old Moon yelled at him. There were no words, only a single step forward, and Old Moon realized he could die here.

It was a relief that the thought did not terrify him; he felt only regret and a bit of curiosity. He wondered, where those the eyes Burilgei and so many others had seen, before joining their ancestors?

Well, there was nothing for it, but to press forward, he decided.

"And I knew it was my fault, that was the worst part. Your mother entrusted you to me, the fate of the Hun nation. I failed to make you a man who could ride his anger – instead, you are consumed more by hate every day. Mercy is not weakness, not every man is Burilgei or Fa Zhu," Old Moon told him.

The moment passed, the shadow of death departed as Bataar took the step back, but the shade had not gone far.

"Fa Zhu still lives, the Emperor reigns, until that changes, my vengeance is not done," Bataar answered.

"Your ancestors will this marriage, otherwise I would never have proposed it. The tent theatrics were just that, but they do want this," Old Moon said. Bataar gave a huff turning away.

"So you say. Only you shamans see them, perhaps that is just a lie to control others," Bataar mused. The accusation hidden in his words still stung after all these years.

"She doesn't come when called. Some never do, even I don't know why. There are questions that are destined to never be answered," Old Moon lamented.

"Well, the question of my marriage seems settled. There is nothing I can do but take the one who stole my victory into my tent, is there?" Bataar asked bitterly.

"You already know the answer," Old Moon admitted.

"If she gives me the slightest reason…" the threat was left hanging in the air for Old Moon to grab.

"I know, it's the kind of man you've chosen to be," Old Moon conceded. Bataar glared at that, but held his tongue, turning away. And with that he was gone, the young man leaving the old alone on the hilltop.

"That was a step too far. It won't be the same again," Old Moon whispered. He wiped a tear from beneath his blind eye. Through it he saw a boy who had not yet forgotten how to laugh as he had tamed his first horse, on a sunny day far from this place.

**XXX**

Shirchin arrived outside the Shan-Yu's tent to find the others waiting. The mood was tense as he joined them in the rough circle. This should have been familiar, like a well-used boot, all of them gathered outside their leader's tent for an impromptu council of their own. Instead, a tense anxious atmosphere had fallen over them, a bolt had fallen from the blue, and each seemed wary of what the land would look like when the smoke cleared.

"Did the shaman discuss this with any of you?" the helmed Hun asked.

"No," Ulaan answered him.

"Old Moon has gone senile, he's deaf to our comrades calling for revenge from beyond death," Lasuluun growled.

"Careful, it's bad luck to insult a shaman," Gaitan told him. The longhaired man lifted his gaze to met Gaitan's.

"Says who?" the sour man demanded.

"Me," Gaitan said.

"It's irrelevant, there is no point in bickering," Ulaan interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"How can you say-? !" Lasuluun demanded.

"Because even Bataar can't go against Old Moon _and_ the Circle," Batu pointed out.

"So they'd have us think. Our Shan-Yu is the strongest, these cowards could not force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do," Shirchin spoke up.

"And you can accept that witch as first wife to your Shan-Yu?" Lasuluun spat. Shirchin shrugged and smiled.

"A first wife isn't a _chief_ wife, necessarily. Bataar is fierce on the battlefield, like a monster at times. His enemy will find the marriage bed bloody I expect," Shirchin explained. That seemed to surprise Lasuluun, whose mood lifted almost visibly.

"You are wiser than you let on, Shirchin," the Hun warrior commented, watching Batu put a hand on Gaitan's shoulder.

"I leave the old man to find my best gossiping in a circle like old hens. Some days I wish all problems could be solved as easily as wars," Bataar muttered, stalking up to them. Suren took a perch on top of the tent pole, watching them. His elite warriors inclined their heads, slightly stepping aside so as to give him a place in their midst. He took it without hesitation, the slightest nod acknowledging them.

"This was a surprise to you?" Batu asked.

"Of course, otherwise I would not be in this situation.

"She's already been taken among the women to be prepared, so Gaitan is released from that. Ulaan, tell your wife she's going to be watching over my… intended," Bataar ordered the respective men.

"What about me, sire?" Lasuluun asked.

"This has nothing to do with you. Carry on as you would unless I order otherwise, that goes for all of you. Once this farce satisfies the Circle, I intend to put the Hill at my back. The sooner things return to normal, the sooner we can begin preparing for another trip south," Bataar said, allowing himself a smile at the thought.

**XXX**

Ulaan found his wife at their tent, inspecting some newly fletched arrows. He had spotted Qorchi running with some other boys, which made this a good opportunity. Walking past where his wife sat, he found her eye meeting it for a moment before entering the tent without a word.

Fortunately, she followed even as he settled down. The tent was decorated with trophies and weapons, all Oyunbileg's, save for a small hide Qorchi claimed. Other men would balk at a woman claiming their tent thus. Ulaan felt no need to mark his territory like a dog; if his wife did, it was her business.

"So has Bataar been planning this the whole time?" she asked, sitting down next to him on a well-worn elk hide.

Ulaan closed his eyes, thinking. Clearly the rumors had indeed sprouted like the weeds of early spring. It was sensible sounding, he supposed. Bataar had never taken any slaves. His first slave is a young woman, and that same woman in fairly short order is announced as an intended. To those who did not know their Shan-Yu, it would seem fairly obvious she had at least been a hide warmer.

Still, Oyunbileg had once known Bataar better than him. He opened his eyes and glanced at her.

"No, this development was unexpected. Though I believe Old Moon has planned it for some time.

"You are to serve as her chaperone in the absence of female relatives on either side," Ulaan told her.

"None, except for Bataar's sisters-in-law and nieces. Though the nieces are too young, I suppose," Oyunblieg commented, scratching at the leather patch on her face.

"Unacceptable, as you well know. And even without the bitterness between the brothers, Unegan is plotting something," Ulaan told her. He held out his hand and received one of the arrows she had been inspecting.

"Isn't he always?" she asked.

"Yes. He endorsed this match. A son of Bataar's will stand between Unegan and the mantle. Even a daughter would blur the line of succession. There is something at work here, and it centers on the Han girl. Old Moon and Unegan both are interested in her," Ulaan pondered.

"And Bataar. Why else would he bring her back?" Oyunbileg asked, getting his attention from inspecting the arrow. He didn't answer, handing back the arrow.

"Rubbish, were you drunk when you fletched it?" he asked calmly.

"That was made by Qorchi," she told him dryly.

"He needs to work on his technique. Coyot has agreed to provide lodgings. The tent is being set up on the eastern edge of our camp," Ulaan told her.

**XXX**

Fa Zhu tossed another piece of wood onto his fire, sending the smolders dancing and lowering the light a moment before the dry wood ignited. Looking to the last light of day fading from the orange west, he rose to his feet, checking over the small camp he had staked. He had not planned to use the tent so soon; the time to set it up cut into his progress, but the first night had been informative come morning.

The light from his fire cast the pines of the glen in a beautiful eerie light. There was no one else for miles; he had forgotten this solitude in the years since he had left the Emperor's service. Yet any nostalgia was tempered by the dangers inherent in his situation. Winter was coming to the high country early, and he doubted he was bound for more forgiving lands.

"I am too old for this," the war hero sighed. Sitting back down before his fire, he began to pull off his armor, setting aside the new sword. It was much like his father's blade, but he could feel the difference in his hand. He had dreaded buying a new one, another burden on his family. But he had not been able to buy one; the smith had given him his own grandfather's sword, insisting on no payment.

Not that it would do him much good on this leg, but from horseback his leg hardly mattered. That at least he could still do.

"Mulan, are you looking at these same stars?" he asked the chill wind as he spotted the first of the night's lights.

Fa Li had not taken his choice well. She had long been his obedient wife, and he liked to think he had never given her cause to complain of him as a husband. They had never met before their wedding, as had been custom in both their families, but he could not imagine anyone else to spend his life with.

He regretted that their parting had not reflected that. Did she really believe Mulan was dead, or was it only fear for him? One tugged at his heart, the other stung his pride.

"_You are not that young man anymore!" she had shouted at him as he packed Khan for the journey._

"_I know, but there may be enough of him left for this," he had told her, impatient with her protests. It was almost as if she had realized his course before he had._

"_Would you make me a widow as well? Your family needs you here," his wife had insisted._

"_My daughter needs me! A father should die to protect his children, children should not pay the price for their father," he shot back. His mother had watched from the door, silent and somber for once – that, more than even Fa Li's fearful anger, showed the weight that had descended on them all._

"_If you find her, it will be only to bury her! She was my daughter too, but you throwing your life away will-" she had pleaded. He nearly fell, despite the cane, turning on her._

"_THEN I WILL BURY HER! I owe her that much! But I do not think she is dead, and I will not believe it until someone gives more proof than a rider-less horse!_

"_And if she is alive, she would return. She hasn't, which means someone, or something, is keeping her __from us. I will bring her back if no one else will!" he had roared at her._

_She had cringed from him, and he had remembered angry words said over tea, his last words to his daughter. He had needed to say something to her, anything, but he had no words. His wife had bowed, apologized for not minding her place, and withdrawn into the house. More than any angry words, that had almost sent him to his knees._

"_If you go in now, you will never leave," his mother had said. She had come over at some point, and just like when he was a boy seemed to pluck his thoughts from the air._

"_Do you think I am mad?" he had demanded._

"_Of course not. She doesn't either; her heart's breaking, and she's afraid. So are you, men just do things differently._

"_I want to believe she's out there. In fact I'm sure of it, but she's right. That girl has more to her than you or Fa Li give her credit for – that she made it so far in the army is proof of that. If something's bound her up, it's nothing to sneeze at. This could be more than you can handle," she had said, patting his arm._

_Khan had huffed behind them, earning his own pat from Zhu._

"_I am old, and crippled, but I am not dead yet," he answered._

"_Well, that settles it! I hope you have some kind of plan?" she demanded, shifting to her usual strange self._

"_Khan has been restless ever since he regained his strength. He will be my guide, to whatever end awaits," he had answered._

"_Taking directions from a horse. Well, that girl is just about as saved as can be," mother had answered, throwing her arms up._

Khan nudging his shoulder drew him out of memories. The stallion seemed to smile at Zhu and he returned the gesture, patting him.

"I am an old man on a young man's journey, Khan. Fa Li is right about that, and it may be too much even if I find Mulan. But some things in this world are more important than life, or honor," Fa Zhu told the horse in the darkening night.

**XXX**

Cri-Kee chirped questioningly under Mulan's collar as the old women escorted her through the maze of tents. He had oddly shown up without Mushu, which reminded her about how the Hill was supposedly protected by the Hun's own guardian spirits. Though since Cri-Kee did not seem too worried, Mushu must have been, relatively, fine. That, and the hawk was shadowing her, she had noticed.

Mulan could hardly be bothered to care about the hawk. The old women's examination had been draining. The questions and the physical tests to determine her eligibility put her bath experience at her extended family's hands to shame. And worse, there was more to come.

But for the night at least, she was getting a break from the madness.

"And here we are, sleep well. You will have an early start tomorrow; dear me, so much to cover, so little time," one of the old women lamented. Mulan made to thank her, before realizing this was not her tent.

"This is not my tent," she stated lamely.

"Oh? Oh yes, you were a slave, but a slave tent simply wouldn't do for His Majesty's intended! The King of the Right donated this tent, and it's furnishings. Such a handsome man," the short woman said.

"You mean generous," the tall one corrected.

"That too," the short one said to the exasperation or agreement of her peers.

"I'll take her from here," Oyunbileg said, pulling the tent flap aside.

"Ah yes, you. Well, good night lady Maral," the apparent leader for the women said huffily. The moment the women turned their backs, the spear wife grabbed Mulan's arm and yanked her inside.

"Well, was your little wedding inspection as fun as mine?" Oyunbileg asked. Mulan pulled her arm free and looked around the tent.

It was about as large as the Shan-Yu's tent, with a fire pit in the center where a modest blaze was going. The ground was covered with plain carpet of faded red and yellow. There were trunks about and bags hanging from hook on the tent poles.

"Nice compared to your old place, eh?" Oyunbileg said, taking a seat by the fire. The Hun woman patted a spot next to her; Mulan considered remaining standing but thought of Cri-Kee. She sat down delicately, opposite the Hun woman.

Mulan reflexively caught the water skin when it was tossed to her. Mulan looked to the one eyed woman, who had a skin of her own.

"Kusmiss, to celebrate," Oyunbileg answered. She took a deep pull of the fermented milk, wincing before smiling at Mulan.

"We've got dried meat, cheese, and other good stuff too. With your status, I bet I could send out an order for freshly roasted goat from someone else's fire. They might even argue over who gets to give us-" Oyunblig plotted.

"What do I have to celebrate?" Mulan snapped. She had just about had it with crazy Hun women. They acted as if she should be happy about this… nightmare! She had gotten to her feet, and at a loss of what to do next, threw down the skin. It burst open, leaking the pungent alcohol on the carpet. Oyunbileg's eye widened for a moment, but she stayed seated.

"Well, for one, you're not going to be a slave anymore," she shrugged. Mulan froze, the statements from earlier coming together now.

"You can't be a Hun wife and a slave of a Hun, those are the rules. For a proud woman like you, I'd think that alone is worth not wasting good drink," the spear wife commented. Mulan was stunned a moment, but had something to answer with.

"It's hardly freedom, if I'm bound to him," she said, pacing the other side of the fire.

"You really don't like Bataar, do you?" Oyunlbilg commented, drinking more.

"…Of course I hate him! He is a monster!" she shouted at the other woman, almost dumbfounded by the question.

"Well, I suppose he can come across that way. We six have been with him so long I think we can lose sight of that," Oyunbileg conceded calmly.

"I won't do it," Mulan declared, still pacing.

"Yes, you will. If you were going to kill yourself, you would have already tried when you were nothing but a slave. I know a survivor when I see one.

"And you can't run, you'll just be caught and dragged back here. You wouldn't know it by looking, but Old Moon commands more respect than even Bataar. He wants you to marry Bataar, and the Huns will make sure that happens.

"He's not such a bad man you know. A bit twisted but…" Oyunbileg said.

"A bit twisted! ? He killed an entire village! Several!" Mulan shot back.

"And that Han soldier killed most of our army. Lots of women want him dead for that, but he was fighting a war. Both of them were.

"When I was a girl, I wanted to be a spear wife more than anything. Well, more like just being a warrior at all. Men won glory and respect in war, and I wanted that. My skills soon won honor for my family – my father's sons were poor fighters, choosing other paths, he could take some pride in me. And a tribe that can boast that even their women are fierce is a proud one.

"It turned out I was _too_ good. Huns know women can fight, but even they aren't so quick to accept we might be better at it than men can be. I got better, and eventually Shirchin was the only young warrior I couldn't best.

"I saw him as an obstacle I needed to overcome to prove my point. The tribe saw him as defending our tribe from humiliation. It would be shameful, and make us look weak if our best warrior was a woman. My own mother tried to persuade me to stop, told me of the consequences.

"But I was young, ambitious, and angry that the world seemed set against me getting what I wanted. I would deal with the consequences of my actions when they caught up to me, if they ever did. I was stupid.

"It was at the point only Shirchin was putting up with me. Everyone else was trying to undermine me in some way, except for him. Said he didn't want to win by any tricks or by me being weaker.

"Then Bataar returned and started rallying a rebellion against Burilgei. Naturally, I saw a chance at glory and rode out. Only for Shirchin to come along; helmet head guessed I would do it and said he was the only one allowed to beat me.

"The glory of war lasted exactly one skirmish. It was a thrilling victory, but I learned what it was to take a life, and see a man I had swapped a dirty joke with not a day before die.

"It's sad that Bataar destroyed your village and family. I don't expect you to just be happy about it. But it's only the end of your story if you let it be," the one eyed woman said. She had Mulan's attention. The story, it struck a certain cord, despite the differences.

"You don't want to marry him? Too bad, Hun women get arranged marriages often as not, we have to think of our tribes and families. You Han match-make even more, as I hear it.

"I didn't want to marry Ulaan. We got engaged because Ulaan's father was an ambitious chieftain who would only support the rebellion if he got something out of it. Bataar has no women kin; as a lady lieutenant known to be part of his inner circle I was the closest thing.

"Bataar didn't force me though. I was only engaged to Ulaan, with the promise we would wed after the war. Still, I hated it – after all I had done for Bataar, I didn't see any consideration in my eyes. And yes, I had two back then.

"I expected Ulaan to be just like his father – a smug schemer always looking for an angle, without a shred of honor. But the first time we met, Ulaan apologized for his father. He found haggling over the destiny of the Huns distasteful. He even offered to break off the engagement when the war ended if I wanted.

"He's not exactly any woman's dream. Cold most times, and not one to confide any feelings or insecurities. Not that handsome either. But he has never tried to rule me as men can do with their wives. When we married, he told me he knew there was no affection between us. I could seek it from other men, provided I was discreet so as not to embarrass him.

"That was strange enough, but he asked for no consideration for himself. He didn't ask for me to tolerate him doing such things. And he hasn't. It may be he just has no interest in such hot blooded things, but he has been faithful to me while not asking I be faithful in return," the Hun recounted. Mulan sat down, watching the other woman, who looked far away.

"Do you love him now?" Mulan asked.

"Well, not the kind of love they sing songs about. But I respect him, and care about his wellbeing. I would be sad to lose him and am proud to raise a son with him.

"Love, like they sing about Maral, is like a child's dream for the future. Sometimes they come true, and that's wonderful, something to really look to with wonder. But it's also very unlikely to happen. And you shouldn't let chasing a dream blind you to what is within reach, that can be pretty darn good.

"I can't say what kind of husband Bataar will be. But what could you run too? Even if you got away, your village burned. Maybe it will be horrible with him, but you could be happy. At the very least you'll be better off than as a slave. And if you give him sons, you may live to be the mother to a Shan-Yu" Oyunbilg finished.

Mulan looked at her intently, as if searching for something. With a sigh, she sagged down into a slump. She got the new skin tossed to her. Thinking about the days ahead, Mulan uncorked the skin and took a sip of the kusmiss. She coughed at the burning sour drink.

"That's the spirit. We are two women alone in a tent talking about men. Getting drunk is the winning strategy," the one eyed woman declared.

**XXX**

"At long last, Ahura Mazda has sent this faithful servant good fortune, nephew," Caspar told his nephew. The merchant was pacing his own tent with the younger man seated on a cushion.

Caspar of Merv's tent, while luxurious by many Hun standards, would not have held up against the standards of the successful traders of his own people. The appearance of wealth was what he showed, while much of his profit went to other places.

"We should do a brisk business as people scramble for wedding gifts," the smaller man said.

"Bah, small matter. Besides, that old slaver Kamran has the ear of all the great Hun chieftains.

"But! Now, Caspar of Merv has a tie to the Queen-to-be! She will remember I treated her well when she was but a slave paramour!" Caspar grinned. His nephew did not look convinced.

"But of course we must clench this tie before some greedy frog hops in and snatches her favor away. Fortunately, our great god of light has given me the perfect way to woo this queen into opening her royal husband's wallet.

"The Han dress! You said she looked at it the way women do when they want something but cannot have it? Well, she shall have it, a gift from Caspar of Merv! And the memory of that happy gift will be tied to our humble business, and she will become a regular when seeking queenly garments. And every Hun woman that matters will of course want to shop where their queen shops. With more money, we will buy better clothes and oils and get higher prices! And then expand into weapons and other manly wares for the men who get dragged here by their wives!

"Yes! Destiny's gates open before me, and the road is made from golden pavers.

"Fetch the Han dress! I must ensure it is without flaw, there is not a moment to spare!" Caspar commanded. Humayun did not rise from his seat, taking great interest in his clasped hands.

"Nephew, the dress?" Caspar inquired, not turning to face his relation.

"I cannot get that dress, most generous and kind uncle," Humayun apologized.

"…Why not?" Caspar asked calmly.

"I already sold it, shortly after Lady Maral left our shop," Humayun explained, looking to the side.

"Sold? To whom?" Caspar inquired.

"A wealthy Hun woman; she was a poor haggler. I sold it for a fine profit," Humayun offered.

"Sold…Humayun, you may find it good to start running," Caspar rumbled, reaching for a gold handled dagger on his thick belt.

**XXX**

_His dreams had been pleasant. Formless things meant to be forgotten with the return to the waking world, but nice. So his awakening had been quite abrupt._

_He had been shaken awake. That had been odd – when his brother's had wakened him in place of more gentle hands, a foot to his side had been their method of choice. Adding to the confusion were the golden eyes looking down on him in the dark. The opposite of what he expected from a rude awakening._

_"Bataar, dress quickly," she had said, pulling him from his bedding and thrusting a bundle of clothes into his chest. He took them with sleepy protest._

_"Now!" she hissed. That got him moving; he knew to listen when she took that tone._

_No sooner had he pulled his boots on then she grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the tent. But not through the flap – the canvas had been cut._

_"It's still dark!" he protested._

_"Hush, you need to be quiet now," she had hushed him, looking about them swiftly._

_"Lady Zaya," a familiar voice came from the dark. One of his father's bodyguards approached. Bataar couldn't see his face in the moonless night, but his mustache stood out and the boy could picture his bare arms._

_Bataar realized the night was full of shouting; horses were running about somewhere nearby._

_"News?" she had asked._

_"The others are dead, Burilgei's men are riding with the heads on spears. Our men have lost hope; they are fighting to die, not win. Those who are still fighting," the warrior reported, spitting to the side with the last words._

_"Even the girls?" Zaya demanded._

_"The littlest ones are gone, the others…" the boy felt something pass him then. It felt cold._

_"He's waiting for you," the warrior said. The warrior leading the way, they pulled him along the dark summit gers. Men were chanting "Shan-Yu", but his father's name was not being raised with it._

_Their flight halted, and his mother held him close._

_"Where are you going?" a man called. Torches lit up, revealing seven men with swords drawn._

_"I am about Old Moon's business, let us pass or face the fury of the spirits!" the warrior threatened, drawing his curved sword. The men laughed._

_"His protection is worthless, the new Shan-Yu has called spirits far greater from the night. Turn over the woman and whelp and you can live. Think about your sons," the leading attacker said, his bearded face cast in eyeless shadows by the torches._

_"I am, go," the warrior said to Zaya. His mother picked the boy up and they were gone as steel clashed on steel._

_He had been afraid; it was not that he understood what was going on. It was the opposite, he didn't. But he new she was afraid._

_Then there were more men._

_"Nowhere to run, little bitch," one of the men had said. His mother had put him down and pulled out a short thin knife. The men in the dark laughed._

_"Give up, the new Shan-Yu wants you alive. He'll need wives and you are his first pick," the man laughed, drawing his own sword._

_"You did not come here for me," Zaya growled._

_"Well yes, the Huns can't be reborn if there are wars for the throne. Tianlinn's bloodline ends tonight, with him. You're not an old woman, you'll have other sons," the dark man assured her as he and his fellows approached._

_Fire flared to life in the dark, the thunder of a god's drum filled the air._

_"REAAAHHHAAHA!" the stallion of fire reared up from the inferno of its birth, between the wolf-eyed Huns and the warriors. The boy would never forget how the men who had loomed so large seemed so small, cowering in the flames._

_The smoldering hooves slammed into the grass, red flames surging toward the men. Whatever courage they had held fled, and so did they._

_As quick as it came the divine beast was gone, a simple stallion standing in its place, packed with pouches, and a familiar old man astride it._

_"Whew, that took a lot out of me," Old Moon wiped his brow, slumping in the saddle._

_"I thought shamans had no power on the night of the shrouded moon?" Zaya accused him, hauling her son before the shaman._

_"The spirits are never silent, but their voices can grow faint. And this is the night when the dark spirits and their songs are ascendant. Burilgei has betrayed all the pacts of his ancestors, and this night is his reward. This is all I can do," Old Moon said morosely._

_"You can do it?" Zaya demanded. The words seemed to straighten the old man up._

_"Save the boy? Yes, this net has holes enough for us to slip through. You'll need a horse," Old Moon told her._

_"No, he can carry you two," Zaya said, stroking the stallion's neck as it watched her._

_"Zaya…" Old Moon whispered. Her wolf eyes met his mismatched ones._

_"I will go to him. Old Moon, he has always wanted me. That lust is one of the roots of this night. If I run he will hunt me, even beyond the lands of ever winter. If I stay, I can distract him, make him forget my son. Until the day my son is ready to remind him," her soft voice became hard and sharp with the last words._

_"I'm staying with you," her son insisted. The adults looked to him, the old man frowning slightly while the beautiful woman smiled. Kneeling, she drew the boy into her embrace._

_"You are my son, Bataar, and your father's son. He was named for the wolf, but you carry the sign of his favor and bear the name of a hero," she told him._

_"But Bharbo's the hero," the boy insisted. She stroked his hair, still smiling._

_"He was the best of your brothers, the only one who truly saw you. But he is gone, like your father, your brothers, and your sisters. And now I must go too," she told him, the smile slipping._

_"No," he declared._

_"Yes, your life has changed. You must go with Old Moon; you must live and become strong. Strong enough to make it right," she told him. Before he knew it he was on the horse, in front of the old man._

_"Zaya, are you certain?" Old Moon demanded shortly._

_"Silly old man, don't test my resolve so cruelly. Take care of my son," she commanded._

_"I will come back, I will save you when I'm strong," the boy said._

_She said nothing to it; she just smiled, her golden eyes shimmering. Without another word passed between them, Old Moon spurred his mount into motion. The darkness swallowed them quick, the night blacker than it ever should be. The boy looked back at his mother; her golden eyes were the last things to vanish into the darkness._

_It was last time he saw her._

With that thought, Bataar awoke, wolf eyes gleaming in the darkness of his tent. The Shan-Yu did not rise, staring up into the darkness, pondering the dream.

It had been years since the memory had come so fresh and clear.

Was Old Moon pulling at his sleep? Or was it simply the talk of his fallen and unlamented Uncle stirring up the embers under the ash?

Closing his eyes, he remembered his great victory before the mouth of the pass. Having General Li's remains presented before his stallion had been glorious. While the famed White Horse General's role in all this had been small, it was another piece of his vengeance done.

He had expected someone more impressive looking.

'You're an old man by now Fa Zhu. What remains for me to take my vengeance on? The only certainty is that you still live, for I have not yet killed you. And before you die I will wipe your line from the earth, even if you have a dozen sons scattered to the corners of China,' Shan-Yu thought, smiling at the thought.

Past demons driven off by the promise of blood, his eyes closed back into the darkness.

**Morning**

'Father, now I know why you prefer tea,' Mulan thought as her head throbbed.

She had been woken by the old women, along with her so-called caretaker. It had felt like she was going to die, and the old women had been angered at Oyunbileg for being a bad influence. Mulan hadn't been listening closely; hearing them only made her head ring like a gong. The woman warrior had been protesting the loud noise as well, to no effect.

At some point, the elders had gotten her to another tent and were talking about the ceremony.

"And it will end with him picking you up and carrying you off. Traditionally it would have been over the shoulder, but these days lots of men carry them in front," the short one told her.

"The Shan-Yu strikes me as a man of tradition. Ah, I remember when my man carried me off, my father and brothers following behind in the ceremonial revenge mob, demanding me back. Such broad shoulders he had," the medium built woman said.

"Lucky you, my Vano wasn't even able to get me out of the tent without having to take a breather. He was good with money, but if ever a man was made for archery it was him," the tall one lamented.

Mulan just closed her eyes, trying to shut them out as she grabbed a piece of hard biscuit from a small basket that had been laid beside her. She was sitting on the floor of a tent about as large as her new one, with stacks of cloth and clothing set about. Hopefully food would mend her cracked head a bit.

'Tailoring?' Mulan wondered. She missed the "psst" from the clothesbasket next to her. Cri-Kee didn't, emerging from her collar to tug on a lock of her hair. That got Mulan's attention in time for Mushu's head to pop up from the clothes.

"Mulan, I finally got past that hawk. He's been on you like glue, and that shaman keeps shambling around. They might be on to me," Mushu reported in an audible whisper.

"Not so loud," Mulan groaned.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Mushu asked, leaning out of the basket.

"Chiiirp," Cri-Kee said.

"What? ! I'm working my tail off trying to get you clear and you party till your eyes are crossed? What happened to my sweet little cross-dresser? !" Mushu demanded.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Mulan answered.

"Well stop abusing your liver and listen! What we need is for you to get a horse, and get to the Great Wall," Mushu huffed.

"Wow, I never thought of that," Mulan snarked.

"So it needs some work. Way I see it, you can whisper most any horse. In fact, get your little bodyguard drunk tonight, while not getting sloshed yourself. Then sneak out and steal a horse. I set a bunch of stuff on fire, and we are gone before they know it," Mushu told her.

"She's not stupid, and there are probably other guards. Besides, what about the hawk?" Mulan asked.

"I'll… make Mongolian barbecue out of him! Victory and tasty supplies all in one!" Mushu assured her. Mulan did not look convinced. She wondered about getting anywhere near the Wall before Huns tracked her down and dragged her back. Mushu retreated into the basket before she could voice her doubts.

"Oh dear, she is worse off than we thought, talking to the laundry," the tall woman lamented.

"I'll go make some of my father's old hangover remedy. There should be plenty of fresh goat eyes this early," the short one said.

"Take the laundry with you," the other woman instructed. Mulan watched impassively as Mushu and the basket where carried out of the tent. Cri-Kee chirped worriedly as she tucked him back in her tunic.

"Well dear, it's time for something more fun than boring lectures," the leading elder said. Mulan just stared at her dully.

"Fitting for your bridal gown!" the tall one exclaimed.

"Joy," Mulan stated, rubbing her throbbing forehead.

**XXX**

Night saw Mulan released from the passive aggressive humiliation of her lessons again. Those old women made her wish she were standing out with the goats. At least with the goats she could be productive by working on her staff work. And smack the stubborn goats around with the staff, for work or fun.

And she was tired of them lamenting the scar left from her wound. It was a small thin scar, all things considered. The tall one had asked if Lasuluun was responsible; silence seemed to be taken as an affirmation. Mulan wondered what they would say if told she had received her scar from her "intended".

Sure enough, she had entered her new tent to find the one eyed woman lounging, with Qorchi trying to assemble a small bow. He was wrestling with the string, trying and failing to bend the bow enough to complete it.

"So, missing laundry duty yet?" Oyunbileg asked.

"I thought men weren't allowed in here?" Mulan dodged the question. The exhausted woman took a seat by the fire, not looking at either Hun.

"Ah, he's just a boy, doesn't count. Besides, it would be cruel to leave Ulaan to deal with him all the time with everything going on," the Hun mother said, reaching out to mess up her son's hair. He missed stringing the bow again, and growled adorably.

"Mother! I almost had it!" he protested.

"Of course you did. You might not see it Maral, being cooped up like this, but everyone's talking about the wedding. Bataar's first wife! There hasn't been a Shan-Yu wedding since Zaya wed the old Shan-Yu. Even the foreigners are excited.

"Poor Batu though; Choeten is livid that no one will remember her wedding if it's too close to this, but will tolerate no delays from Batu. Why can't I be that scary?" Oyunbileg complained, sipping some kusmiss.

"Maybe it's the eye patch?" Qorchi suggested.

"Oh?" she asked the boy menacingly, sitting up fully. Mulan watched the wrestling match to prove "how scary" a woman could be with an eye patch. She couldn't repress a smile at the ridiculous sight as the spear wife kept letting the boy escape her holds.

'So unlike my mother. But not so wrong either,' she thought, looking into the fire. A skewer of dripping meat thrust into her face drew her out of her reverie. Oyunblieg sat beside her, Qorchi watching the two of them.

"Here, it's not quite fresh, but still juicy," the Hun offered. After a beat, Mulan took the skewer and bit into the meat.

**XXX**

A hand grabbing her shoulder woke Mulan.

'Grandmother,' was her first thought. Her family each had different ways to wake her if she slept in. But the hand was wrong, and she snapped awake. She could make out the woman leaning over her in the dark tent.

"Maral, come with me," Oyunbileg whispered. Mulan grumbled but complied, removing herself from her blankets. Before she could reach for her clothes, her deer cloak was thrown into her arms. Even in the dark, she could tell she wasn't getting explanations.

"What's going on? It's nowhere near dawn," Mulan demanded as the two women slipped around the darkened tents. Her real complaint was how cold her bare feet were, but she wasn't going to say that to this woman.

"It's time, for the spirits to be called," Oyunbileg told her quietly, checking to make sure the way was clear. Mulan paused, spotting Mushu following them, giving her a thumb's up. Her wrist was grabbed, pulling her along…

Into the open?

She was certain this space hadn't been here before, a clearing in the tents and tracts. The grass of the steppes wasn't even trampled, almost seeming to shine in the silver moonlight. A single tent stood in the center of the pristine square. It was not one of the gers she had grown accustomed too. It was taller and much smaller within, a senseless design for a living space.

'A portable shrine?' she wondered at such a strange idea.

"He's waiting for you," Oyunbileg said, pushing her further into the grass. The one eyed woman herself retreated back into the shadows of the encampment.

As Mulan glared back at her, a horse whinnied.

The stallion appeared from behind the tent. Massive and powerful, stitched with scars from blades and cruder ones from tooth and claw. He moved through the silver grass with silence, looming over her as if his mane might brush the moon overhead.

'He's blue like the sky!' she realized with fright. This was no horse, this was a spirit of these lands. She hoped Mushu would stay out; this was more like something the Great Stone Dragon might hope to deal with.

Looking up at the stallion's scarred face, she followed the wounds to his eyes. Black as a starless night, yet she could see herself in them.

She wanted to shrink before it, to bow in respect hoping it would pass her by peacefully. This was power before her – it could crush her head under its hooves before she could so much as cry out. Perhaps even bite her head off if she wasn't imagining its size.

Yet she couldn't. The idea of falling to her knees, it reminded her. Of all the times her mother had dragged her and told her to sit and reminded her of what a proper lady should do, and more importantly not do. Of the fewer but worse times her father asked her to sit with him over tea and reluctantly or angrily reminded her of her place. Of kneeling in the snow, waiting for the man whose life she had saved to execute her, for daring to save their people. Of two rivers where two different Huns had humiliated her, and she had survived only because the Huns wanted her to live.

She would not give this horse the satisfaction easily. He would have to work for it if he was to get it.

Meeting his gaze with her own eyes she watched him, daring him to take offense.

He blew hot air down into her face. She blinked reflexively, and he was gone. Glancing around quickly she saw she was alone in the patch, the sky blue stallion gone as if it never existed. Dim light poured across the swaying grass to rest at Mulan's feet; looking up she saw the tent flap had been pulled aside.

Looking back, she could see a smirking Oyunbileg watching, and Mushu peaking though her legs.

Whatever that was about though, she had made it past. She wanted to at least take a look at the way it had opened. Facing into the dancing firelight, she walked up to the tent and ducked though the small opening.

The flap slipped shut behind her, and her eyes began to water.

The tent was filled with pungent smoke. She reached back for the flap, but found only empty air. Standing up, she took a full step back, only to still find nothing.

"Welcome, brave daughter of the south. I knew you would be permitted passage, but still I am pleased to see you," a voice called. The smoke parted to reveal as small fire, and Old Moon sitting on the side opposite her.

"Sit," he commanded; more smoke cleared, revealing bare earth across the fire from him. Wishing she had just gone back when she had the chance, she obeyed.

"You have been given the name Maral in passing, which is well for a slave of the Huns. A wife of a Hun is not a slave of the Huns. And to ride beside the Shan-Yu…

"Those born to the Huns receive their name from their parents with the blessing of the shamans. You come to us, though, as an outsider. You have lived amongst us, but not as one of us. You have walked, beside, but not ridden with.

"You have been granted passage, named worthy by an ancient spirit.

"What was shall be no more, let that which shall be, be born now. We shall learn what your name is tonight," Old Moon intoned. Reaching into the silver smoke, he pulled a clay bowl out and set it on the fire. The flames receded from it, parting like grass pressed down.

Reaching into a pouch, he pulled out a handful of dirt and tossed it in the bowl.

"The land," he said. The smoke swirled around them; Mulan gasped as it took on shapes against itself. The steppes, the hills and mountains she had seen, and valleys and lakes she had never set eyes on, all rising about them.

Old Moon seemed oblivious as he pulled out a small water skin. Uncorking it, he poured out something that was not water. The smell snapped her back from the spectacle to the old man.

"Blood of the stallion," he declared. Fumes rose from the bowl now, and he gently waved them as they curled about Mulan. Somewhere, a horse was calling. The awed girl spotted it, a horse of smoke on steppes of smoke. Though small, she could see what a magnificent beast it was.

"The milk of the mare," Old Moon said as he emptied another skin. Once more the fumes rose to curl about Mulan before reaching out to the steppes; before her eyes it formed into a mare restlessly working the grass by the stallion.

"Breath of the shaman," Old Moon whispered. The ancient spirit man took a deep breath, so long that Mulan began to be concerned. Closing his mouth, his wrinkled cheeks puffed out like some bizarre frog. He let the air out in a gust, into the bowl before him. The smoke burst outward, a silent explosion, the vision and everything else lost in the silver swirl around her.

She wanted to say something, but couldn't find words for it.

Something warm touched her brow above her left eye. Gnarled but gentle fingers smeared the pungent mix across her brow. Thumb and middle finger placed a pair of spots, one on each cheek. A stained forefinger touched her lips, staining them in the center.

"Speak!" Old Moon demanded softly. Canvas tore apart around them. In an instant the ripping was followed by the roar of the wind, a word from her mouth did not reach her ears. Old Moon smiled at her as silver smoke ripped past them both in the gale. Mulan blinked.

And in that blink of an eye it was gone – the mist (smoke?), and the tent. Mulan saw she was sitting in the mud, a long burned out fire in front of her with bits of a broken bowl littering the well-churned earth.

"What?" she wondered aloud. She tasted it.

On her lips, a sweet, bitter taste. Blood, milk, mud, and something strange. It reminded her of so much and yet nothing. She held her hands almost touching her face, feeling the balm spread over it, eyes wide. Mulan jerked when a hand touched her shoulder.

Looking up, she saw Oyunbilelg smiling down at her.

"It's alright, this is very good," the Hun assured her, pulling her to her feet.

Mushu frowned deeply, glaring at the stuff on Mulan's face.

"I am not liking this Hun magic," he grumbled slinking off.

**XXX**

Old Moon was humming to himself as he threw the tent flap aside. The younger, but still grey haired, shamans looked up at him from the fire the three sat around. The tent was decorated with charms, drying herbs, and various animal remains. Tools of their craft in abundance.

"Success?" one of the lesser shamans asked. Old Moon merely smiled and nodded, leaning heavily on his staff. The reaction made the three exchange looks. That seemed to get the older man's attention.

"What did the telling say?" he demanded sharply.

One of the shamans rose, revealing a horse skull held in his hands, freshly cracked from the heat.

"We called for warning on what forces may stand against the wedding," the shaman said as he turned the skull so Old Moon could see.

The cracks on the skull had formed into a reasonable likeness of Mushu; he looked to be shouting, with a long tongue stretched out.

"Dragon! Well, looks like I'm going to be getting another notch on my staff. Summon the others, we've got an overgrown lizard to put in its place," Old Moon cackled.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_This chapter was harder than expected. But it went better than my original work this month. Anyway, this chapter ended up with some additions and subtractions. Chien Po and the old unit were supposed to make an appearance, but for the sake of pacing that has been pushed back to later. Unegan also got pushed back, though he will be appearing next chapter._

_Good news for Hachin fans, especially those eager for more Bataar/Mulan interaction. The next update planned is for Hachin, yes, back to back updates. I hope to have it out well before Christmas so as to update some long over due projects as gifts to the fans of those fics. And since next chapter is the wedding…_


	8. Ends and Beginnings

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Mulan, if I did I would be rich. I am not rich.

**Author's Note:** _This was much harder than I expected. I am glad it is done, and hope the quality reflects the effort._

_Story Notes: This chapter I was able to get some nice data from an exhibit on Steppe Cultures. Namely on the gers structure, social arrangements, and those stoves. But I freely admit the wedding was primarily a product of my imagination to fit this fictitious version of the Huns. Well hopefully historians won't be too offended, or the ancestors of the depicted._

_And now the next chapter of Hachin for your enjoyment!_

**Ends and Beginnings**

Mulan stood stiffly on a stool, looking at herself in a large round metal mirror. Her wedding dress, this was like some bizarre nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Those nightmares before had involved ugly or old men with terrible breath. The dress itself was proof this wasn't a nightmare, it didn't even look like a proper wedding dress.

Around her the old women chattered as the mirror was put down by te middleaged women holding it..

"Magnificent, radiant," the tall one praised.

"The other boys will be even more jealous of Bataar than usual," the short woman declared.

"We have done our work well ladies," the leader stated. She was smiling as she stepped up to lift the headdress off Mulan's head.

"Good, then its time to get down to business," a voice cracked through the scene like a whip. The door attached to the Ger, to ensure Old Moon's absence, swung in. Revealing Choeten standing on the other side, with hair pulled back and perfectly set, and a dress of green dyed wool with long sleeves adorned with bronze plates.

"Choeten, what are you-?" one of the women asked. Choeten ignored the question swooping in, Oyunbileg following a sheepish smile on her face as the elders glared at her.

Mulan watched the smaller woman in puzzlement, as Choeten looked her over in the dress. For a moment the woman's large eyes seemed to soften, but in a blink they were back to normal as she offered a hand to Mulan.

Mulan took the hand and was helped/pulled down from the stool.

"Yes this will do. Now get her out of it and into something presentable. But not too presentable, something to reflect her future status, but not presumptuously claiming it. It should show that she is someone of importance, but not so much as to offend the host.

"The right combination of soon to be royal pride, and feminine humility," Choeten ordered.

"What?" the lead elder asked. Choeten turned on the woman scowling.

"This girl is to be royalty, she must meet with the kings and great chieftains before becoming their ruler's wife. By now you have surely showed her enough proper manners she can share a meal and cups without starting a feud?

"And guiding this poor girl through such a task cannot be trusted to a spear wife! Sun and Moon, what was Bataar thinking? Exposing an innocent girl to this savage excuse for a woman. Next thing you know she'll have her riding off to war like a stupid man!

"Well don't just stand there! Maral, must be ready to meet with Barrago on time, and I need to coach her on the way. Step too," she snapped before swooping out the door.

"Proud _and_ humble? I hope you know what she is talking about!" Oyunbileg laughed, before closing the door behind her as they left.

**X X X**

Soon enough Mulan was pulled behind a tent by the short woman, Oyunbileg following after them, looking amused at the while proceedings.

Choeten looked her over again and gave a despairing sigh as she closed her eyes and pinched her nose.

"Men!" she cursed. Mulan looked at Oyunbileg who just shrugged, pulling out her skin and offering it to the distressed woman.

Choeten opened her eyes to see the offering and lightly smacked it away. Reaching to her own belt pouch she pulled out a small clay bottle with dried grasses wrapped tight around it.

Uncorking the small bottle Choeten took a shallow nip. Seeming a bit calmed by the drink she looked at Mulan considering.

"This is Shimiin Arkh, a proper drink for women of the steppes," Choeten said holding the bottle out to Mulan.

"I don't think-" Mulan said before being cut off.

"That's good, Barrago dislikes smart women even more than spear wives. Aiyah, as if its not enough to plan my own wedding! But if this royal wedding is a disaster while I'm here what will people say?!" Choeten demanded.

"They wouldn't have said anything, because it wasn't your job until you seized it by scaring off the people who were supposed to do this?" Oyunbileg offered. Choeten gave her a look that would curdle milk.

"Letting idiots mess something up is just as bad as failing yourself. And unlike you, underachiever, who can't be bothered to install a proper stove, I have pride!" Choeten shot taking another drink.

"You have enough pride for both of us, and Maral here too," Oyunbileg stated. Choeten turned on Mulan, wide eyed, apparently she had forgotten the Han girl was there.

"What do you know about Chief Barrago?" Choeten demanded.

**X X X**

Barrago sipped the dark red wine from a gold chalice. Across the low table from him sat an elderly Persian merchant. The man was much thinner than many such merchants, but his attire far more splendorous beneath a long white beard. His prominent nose was held over the wine he was swirling in the cup.

"A fine bottle, old friend," the Persian remarked. Barrago grunted agreement setting the cup down by a plate of mostly untouched delicacies.

"Has your appreciation for the delicacies of the west waned Barrago?" the ornate Persian asked.

"My appreciation for anything is sour these days Karman. That boy yet again insults me with impunity. There was time when I could claim no one could provoke my fury without paying the price," the old chieftain told the slaver.

Karman clapped his hands, a beautiful woman in a dancers uniform swept into the tent. She bent to pick up the trays, deliberately giving the old Hun a fine view before taking the food away. Barrago watched her go before turning to the young woman seated next to the Persian. Her clothes were fine Persian garments and her hair was arranged in the styles of that nation, but she was unmistakably a Hun.

"Daughter, how fare my grandsons in the Persian lands?" he inquired. She inclined her head to him before answering.

"They bring honor to my husband and my father. They are diligent in their studies and the disciplines of the sword," she reported.

"In the way of the Persian warriors, or the Huns?" Barrago demanded.

"Now old friend, I do not question you making Huns of my own grandchildren. Let's not open needless wounds," Karman interceded before his young wife answered.

"Do even you defy me now?" Barrago questioned. There was no heat behind the question, which worried the Persian more than the possible threat.

"Why so melancholy? Our business thrives, your wealth is great, your male descendants are many and strong. Men look upon you with envy, Barrago the Defiant," Karman pressed. The chieftain smiled without mirth at the title, pocking his cup up again.

"That song is fading my friend. In Persia wealth may be the greatest power, but these are the Steppes; wealth brings power, but respect is harder to gain, and keep.

"When Burilegi brought his terror to the Steppes, I alone defied him and lived to tell the tale. I fought him and lived. I scarred his face and escaped to fight another day. Five tribes rode beneath my banner against the Usurper's rule. Proud warriors abandoned their broken tribes to ride bravely with me.

"Bataar was nothing, a legend on the wind, no more substantial than smoke. I was the pride and hope of the Huns through those long dark years.

"Then that wolf eyed boy came from nowhere and won battle after battle with that spear wife and pack of upstarts at his side.

"When he came to me I was respectful, I was ready to pledge my forces to his cause. He was the som of Tianlinn, it was nt my place to defy his right to the title shan-yu. All I required was that he take one of my daughters as his first wife, his queen. He laughed at me. Me!

"That arrogant upstart claimed that he was the rightful shan-yu and he would not bargain for what was rightfully his. In front of my own people he laughed to my face.

"A duel was the only way. I wouldn't have killed him, simply showed him that no bloodline or victories put him above me," Barrago mused glaring into his cup.

"Instead he defeated you, and scarred _your_ face," Karman finished. The Hun grunted, and drained the wine.

"My legend began to fade that day. I became less the brave chieftain who protected his people from a tyrant, and more the fool who defied the returned hero.

"He did not even allow me a place as a King when the usurper fell! So I did not fight for him at the Battle of Mists!? His plans were foolish, was I supposed to put my warriors fates in Old Moon's trembling hands?

"And now he gives the place that should have gone to my bloodline to some trembling doll of a Han.

"Never live so long as to see your own sun set my friend. Better to die in glory than live to see men look down on you," Barrago ground out. He held out his cup. One of his wives, a daughter of Karman dressed in Hun finery quickly filled the gold cup anew.

**X X X**

Barrago left the tent of the Persian with his mood little improved. A wave of his hand sent his guards and wife away. His mood was foul and he had no desire for company.

A desire that was not to be granted. As he wandered with aimless anger through the trading lanes a young man matched his stride. For some time he did not acknowledge the company, but at last his good eye slid over to take in he smile of the King of the Left.

"What do you want Unegan?" Barrago demanded. If the lack of respect for his title bothered Unegan he did not show it. In fact he inclined his head to the senior chieftain.

"Only a bit of your time, to speak plainly with one of the most distinguished leaders of the Confederation," Unegan told him. Barrago stopped turning to partly face the handsome young man.

"Then speak," Barrago commanded.

"You take insult at the actions of my brother. And rightfully so. His reign has done nothing but diminish you. When I was a boy, tales of your strength and cunning were among my favorite around the fire.

"You were my father's enemy, but he respected you far more than your so called allies have," Unegan said. Barrago said nothing to that, simply watching Unegan intently.

"As you well know, I have also endured indignities at Bataar's hands. And I have risen above them to command great power on the steppes and in the Circle," Unegan said, stepping forward to drape an arm over the broad man's shoulders.

"I think you want me to get to the point, Defiant One. The fact is I have no sons by the wives I have now, and you have daughters of marrying age. An alliance between us-" Unegan explained. His arm was knocked away with a backhand.

Barrago gave his full attention to the King of the Left, lips pulled back in a sneer.

"I have fallen far, but not so far as to ally myself with the weakling spawn of my old enemy. The least of my daughters is still too good for you. Even the granddaughters," Barrago stated gruffly. Without another word the old Hun was off, striding into the renewed crowds of the market.

Unegan scowled, but it swiftly turned into a smile. A small thin knife was deftly tucked back into the sleeve of his tunic. Along with a lock of silver hair.

"So be it then, old fool," Unegan whispered. Still smiling he seemed to melt into the crowds.

**X X X**

Choeten swung open the door to the well sized, but plain grey, tent pulling Mulan out after her. An elderly Hun woman with a pure white braid bedecked in silks and golden rings followed them out.

"I apologize for my husbands behavior, he meant no offense," the old woman said, to Choeten.

"I don't think there was any miscommunication. Good day," Choeten said to the other before dragging Mulan off.

"The nerve of that old man! Whatever his status, he should know better than to snub you like that. Not that you glaring back helped anything!" Choeten grumbled as she pulled Mulan along.

"What will the Shan-Yu think?" Choeten paled at the words.

**X X X**

"Ha!" Bataar laughed. He was inspecting a cleared patch of ground as Choeten stood nearby.

"I'm sorry sire?" Choeten replied frowning.

"I expected no less from that bitter old man. A pity it didn't escalate, I might have been rid of an annoyance," Bataar chuckled standing back up.

"I get the feeling I am missing something," Choeten sighed.

"You are but don't worry, that's to be expected," he told her.

"Will she be ready to not disgrace me at the wedding?" Bataar inquired, stepping back to look at the spots he had marked on the ground.

"Well, I think Oyunbileg may be a bad influence on her femininity," Choeten told him. That got a bark of laughter from the wolf eyed man, but he didn't elaborate.

"Is that a no then?" he pressed.

"Well, its hard to tell what she is thinking. Everything is happening so fast. I don't know that she even realizes what most Huns live like. And she has yet to meet with your brother and King Coyot," she told him.

"I have a good understanding with Coyot, and she has already met with Unegan," Bataar dismissed her concerns turning away.

"But, how is she supposed to be a queen if she doesn't know anything but a slaves chores and a spear wife's crudeness?" Choeten objected.

"If you think she will shame me, I can always send her to have a chat with Lasuluun," he told her without facing her. The woman paled.

"That seems a bit extreme," she said after a moment.

"I agree, if you are so worried take her to dinner," the shan-yu ordered.

"What?" Choeten asked.

"You claim to be so proper, show her by example, tonight," Bataar ordered leaving her to vanish into the bustle of the encampment.

**X X X**

"So you are taking me home for dinner?" Mulan asked Choeten. The other woman had her arm wrapped possessively around Batu's much larger arm. The bald man was still shirtless, but he was wearing much nicer pants, with a belt adorned with beads of gold.

"It was Shan-Yu Bataar's idea," Choeten said.

"You're lucky, lots of them couldn't change their plans at short notice," Batu told Mulan.

"Hush, now my father will be talking with you about our wedding after dinner, so hold back on the drinking," Choeten told him.

"I'm not Oyunbileg, and she's better these days you know?" Batu objected.

"Just behave, both of you," Choeten snapped. Letting go of Batu she smoothed her dress and walked up to a ger decorated with colors of red and blue along the top. The door had a broken mold carved into it flanked by a hammer and tongs.

Choeten took a breath before opening the door. Mulan followed her after a very light push oh er shoulder by Batu.

Remembering Choeten's instructions she went to the right, to the women's side of the Ger. She quickly saw the lesson was pretty self evident. The women's side held utensils, cooking tools, and other projects on the lattice work and floor. The men's side to the left of the door had saddles atop chests, weapons hung on the walls, and even a small goat penned in against the wall.

As unrelated guests she and Batu took seats closest to the door on the pads of cloth set out to either side of the dividing line. It was all centered around a stove, with peat moss burning away in its iron age heating a pot atop it, as it rested on a thick round stone.

"Welcome honored guests," an old man greeted from a spot just across from the door. Unlike the others he was further from the fire and his seat was raised on a small platform. It was lower than a table back home and draped in a persian carpet. Either the head of the house or a man with prestige enough that he would be given the best seat.

"This is my grandfather, the mighty Cheren," Choeten said gesturing to the old man sitting at the spot of honor. He looked, rather less than mighty, and had a close cropped white beard along his jawline that failed to hide the lose skin behind it.

"His . . . wife, Tolui," Choeten went on with a tick. This woman sat immediately to the old man's side, richly adorned, and beautiful in her thirties. Cheren smiled at the mention of the much younger woman.

"My father Berke, a master craftsman of bronze, gold and silver," she gestured to the tall clean shaven man with the sleeveless tunic, seated at Cheren's other hand. He looked at Mulan and gave a grunt before looking away.

"My mother, Checheg," Choeten introduced the fat woman with loose flowing black hair seated next to Tolui. She was a handsome woman, wearing a smile that looked habitual on her face.

"Well aren't you just the prettiest thing! I can see half the rumors were right and the other half horrible lies! Honestly just because you landed the most eligible man north of the Wall is no reason for women to be bitter.

"And how is that dear Oyunbileg doing, still carrying those spears? She should be tending to her husbands spear! I mean really, married this long and only one child?

"Why I remember the time Choeten had to haul her in half naked from a party at a Summit. Poor girl vommitted all over Choeten, and right in front of Batu and his friends too!

"Do you remember that Summit dear?" Checheg recounted, without seeming to need to take a breath.

"Yes, I remember," Choeten answered closing her eyes. She cut off her mother as the woman started to say something more.

"And here we have my eldest brother Tegus, a metal crafter as well, and his wife," Choeten introduced the last ones present.

"And the others are all not here and we don't need to discuss them," Choeten finished quickly.

"Actually my name is," Tegus' wife spoke up.

"So they tell me you are from China?" Checheg interrupted leaning toward Mulan.

"Yes," Mulan answered.

"What did your family do?" the woman pressed.

"Mother, they are dead I hardly think-," Choeten spoke up.

"Oh nonsense, she doesn't mind talking about it," the matriarch waved off.

"Oh let her be quiet, you'll just end up doing all the talking," Berke spoke up.

"So, it can't be bothered to greet a guest, but it can insult his wife," the large woman huffed.

"She's probably sick of meeting people, why bother?" Berke said draining his cup.

"Father, mother, please?" Tegus said wearily.

"What did I do? She's the one poking a bunch of dead Hans just to get gossip," Berke fired back.

"So . . ." Cheren spoke up. All the others got quiet.

"How's it feel going from slave to Queen so quickly?" Cheren asked stroking his beard. Mulan wasn't certain what to say, but Choeten motioned for her to say something.

"Well, I'm not there yet," Mulan said. The elder nodded at her answer, looking at her intently.

"I knew Tianlinn, Bataar's father. He was a hard one too, but he did right by his men, and his women. A man has to be hard to rule in a land like this, with a people like us. But a hard man isn't the same as a bad man.

"At the very least, he has good taste in women," Cheren smiled looking Mulan over. She blushed looking away from the old Hun.

"So, how about those stuffed biscuits?" Batu asked before the conversation could start up again.

_Meanwhile:_

Coyot watched from the place of honor in the ger, a woman sitting next to him. They both watched two men work over the fire in the center, he was relaxed, the woman leaned forward slightly in interest.

The elder of the two men held up the lump of wax having finished carving symbols into it. The shaman placed it on on the ground, and a hammer struck it.

Coyot winced slightly. He could see the blow was lighter than it looked, but even so. The hard wax cracked as the hammer was set aside. Strong and sure hands picked it up, and deftly snapped it in half.

"Thank you uncle," Coyot said as the piece of bronze was presented to him. Taking the piece of molded metal he wiped way the wax clinging to it with his thumbs.

The King of the Rights expression was calm as he turned the glinting metal of the new born piece over letting it catch the light.

"What so you say Altan?" he asked handing it to the woman next to him. The bronze light caught in the woman's blue eyes.

"Excellent, it has the beauty and power you wanted. The woman who possesses this will bare a son with her maiden heads breaking," she told him eyeing it reverently.

"I could have told you that sire," the shaman complained.

"You are not a woman, your wisdom on these matters is dubious at best," Coyot remarked tiredly. The shaman reddened a bit at that but said nothing.

"You two have done well, with this we will place our own Great Wall between the fox and his ambitions," Altan said to the bronze crafter and shaman.

Coyot smiled, holding the bronze up so it cast a shadow across his face.

_The Next Day:_

"So is Coyot related to the Shan-Yu?" Mulan asked. She was walking through the press of encampment with Oyunbileg and Choeten again. She could hear vendors calling out, Choeten had said Coyot was a major trader with the nations to the west. Apparently that translated into patronage and protection wit how many clung to his tribes encampment.

Apparently Barrago disrupted that with his influence in the slave trade, but Coyot had not disputed that. Mulan was having trouble keeping all of these politics straight.

"No, well maybe very distantly. The rivalry between Unegan's father and Bataar's has left those two as the only true royals. Though I suppose Unegan's daughters are royal as well," Choeten answered.

"Coyot got his rank by fighting in the Rebellion early on. He killed Burilegi's King of the Right in single combat after defeating the man's bodyguards. For that and other noble service he was awarded the title and rank," Oyunbileg supplied.

"It wasn't because he can kill people; he's smart and has proven he can hold territory and make it profitable without constant rebellion," Choeten objected.

"Then there was the rumor . . . but this wedding should put that in its grave," Oyunbileg smiled putting he hands on the back of her head.

"That is not appropriate!" Choeten objected red faced.

"He is a pretty calm guy Maral. This won't be like Barrago, not much pisses him off and he will probably be polite and bored the whole time. And wait till you see this wife of his! She has blue eyes!" Oyunbileg told her.

"What?" Mulan asked puzzled.

"And yellow hair," Oyunbileg told her.

"She is an exotic women, which is why the Persians brought her here," Choeten waved her hand.

"One doesn't get to be third wife, _and_ chief wife to a king, by just being _exotic_," a new voice called out. Mulan looked with the others ands saw the strangest women she had ever laid eyes on.

Her dress was like Choeten's in style but adorned with a thick silk belt of green patterned with gold dye in what Mulan was starting to recognize as the Persian style. Her hair truly was the color of straw, though it was pulled back into a pair of typical Hun braids.

She smiled smiled, a glimmer in her strange eyes as Mulan looked at her. Mulan realized she was staring and bowed. The Queen of the Right returned the bow as her escort of guards closed in granting the group of women some privacy in the press.

"You must think me quite the sight. Young Huns travel abroad, even as far as the Great City of the Straits from time to time. But you Han like to isolate yourselves. Though I never saw someone like you in my own land either," the foreign woman continued. She spoke the Hun language flawlessly. Mulan wondered how long she had lived among them to lose her homeland in her voice.

"I am called Altan, chief wife of Coyot, and I am very pleased to meet you," Altan smiled holding out a hand to Mulan. The hand was calloused on the palm, but golden rings decorated every finger only leaving her thumb bare.

"Quite the contradiction isn't it? Where I come from wealthy women didn't have hands like this. Same for you right?

"Did those two behind you mention anything besides what I look like?" she asked bidding Mulan to follow her. The escort moved with them Choeten and Oyunbileg with their protection but holding back from the two foreign women.

"Well..." Mulan began. The blonde woman did not let her finish.

"I find you quite interesting Maral. We are much alike.

"Not in appearance, but you seem to be walking a path I know well. You see when I was a child my people lost a war, and I was given up as spoils. Another daughter, expendable in the eyes of my family.

"The victors made me a slave, but sold me rather than keeping me. When I bloomed into beauty my value went up and I somehow ended up in a Persian pleasure house before I was even truly woman.

"My masters in Persia apparently decided exotic women like me would turn a fine profit in Persia, but be worth far more to their trading partners here in the steppes.

"My husband received me as a gift from his father. It took me years, a bastard son, and two political marriages for him. But now I am the chief wife of the second most powerful man among the Huns. Quite the journey from a piece of property given away like a bale of grain, wouldn't you say?

"And now I find another slave girl, who in a matter of months is about step above me," Altan finished watching Mulan from the corner of her eye.

'She thinks I worked to get this?!' the idea almost tripped Mulan up. The blue eyes watched, they were as piercing as the eyes of Shan-Yu's falcon.

"I, I would rather be home," Mulan told her. That earned her a raised eyebrow.

"Leave the side of one of the most powerful men in Asia to be a Han peasant. Young lady, your lying needs work," Altan chuckled.

"My husband may be content to let events unfold, but I am not. You have met Unegan I understand, and you have seen what Bataar is. Do not think royal blood is the only power.

"I am glad you could be here, to see 'my' wolf at his work," Altan smiled.

They had entered a large corral area in the midst of the encampment. Horses were not on the cleared ground now though, instead two men stood there in the open. One was a giant of a Hun with a balding warrior kneeling before him. Across from them a bored looking Hun in fine but plain cloths fiddled with the sheathed sword on his belt.

"Mother!" a girl called out. She tackled Altan who barely managed to keep her feet. The girl was wearing what looked like a smaller version of Oyunbileg's clothes, and they were filthy, her hair a lose mane of light brown hair.

"Yomo said yes!" the girl grinned up at her mother.

"Of course he did," Altan returned the smile. Mulan looked back to the men and watched the giant walk away.

"Where is he going?" Mulan asked.

"Yomo has yielded one of his riders to my husband's vengeance. When Coyot kills him there will be no feud or talk of vengeance; it will simply end here on the grass," Altan said satisfied.

"Serves him right," the girl huffed turning her attention to the man on his knees before the Hun king.

"So the rumor I heard was true. Surprised it took this long," Oyunbileg spoke up joining them with Choeten.

"Everyone is busy with the wedding preparations. Even killing has to wait its turn at times like this," Altan conceded.

"He's going to execute him?" Mulan asked shocked. The blue eyed woman raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Actually he's going to kill that peeper. Why so surprised? How would a high ranking man of the Middle Kingdom treat this insult?" the strange Hun asked.

"This will be good, I should have brought Qorchi," Oyunbileg smirked.

"Yes, best to kill these urges early," Choeten agreed curtly.

S crowd was forming murmuring excitedly, at Altans's lead the women advanced so they stood at the inner edge of the forming circle. Coyot's blue eyed wife was seemingly recognizable enough that she and her guests were excused from the press, Huns giving them noticeable space.

The balding Hun fell to his knees again, planting his fists as Coyot drew his sword. It was curved like the other Hun swords she had seen, but longer, not a very thick blade. As he held it easily in one hand she saw an animal ornament dangling from the pommel, bronze glinting in the sunlight.

"Get up," he commanded calmly. It was eerie, how a man with a such a calm voice could send a chill up her spine.

"Mercy I meant no offense to you or your women!" the warrior begged.

"You saw my daughter, in the bathing tent. Naked. My mercy is giving you a chance to die like a man," Coyot stated in that same even tone.

Mulan looked to the brown haired girl, her mother's arm over her shoulders. The girl was smiling as she watched her father.

'She hasn't even bloomed yet,' Mulan thought with a lurch looking back to the condemned man. In time to see Coyot's sword get tossed to the ground in front of him.

The man looked up at the blade in the trampled grass, and to Coyot as the man drew a pair of daggers. The blades were straight steel, no more than a hands length and without crossguards.

"I do not need a sword," Coyot sounded bored.

The warrior moved.

Mulan found it stunning how the pathetic man had in a moment gone from begging to a charging boar.

Taking up the sword he came on Coyot with a bellowing war cry. The sword may have snipped off some of Coyot's hair as he stepped away from the blade.

"Now you are ready to die like a Hun," Coyot said with a small smile. With a flick of his wrist he sent drops of blood from the left dagger towards his opponent. The older hun put a hand to his chest, astonished at the shallow bleeding cut.

This time he was silent as he charged sword raised. Each strike with the sword was swift, the warrior knew how to fight off a horse as well as on. His form was strange compared to the Chinese school, but it was clear he was a fine student of the blade. Yet nothing connected.

Coyot stepped into his foes guard and struck him on the temple with the pommel of a dagger. The man staggered, he was open, Coyot stepped back. The King of the Right kneeled, and planted both blades in the ground, points toward the sky.

"I do not need blades to kill you," he remarked. As he rose the warrior recovered. The unfortunate man looked to Coyot's empty hands, and serene eyes; he seemed more afraid now than when he had been cut and had not known it.

"I am the Beast, and I will have my due," Coyot told him stepping over the daggers.

Watching the unarmed man advance, the warrior took a step back. Pulling himself up short, Mulan imagined he remembered the crowd.

'Huns have their own honor, and his is at stake,' Mulan pondered.

Giving a cry that must have emptied his lungs the warrior charged. There was so much power behind the first strike the sword practically swung the man. Though her sharp eyes did see it get close enough to clip a lock of Coyot's mane.

The next three strikes all forced Coyot back, and the man frowned for the first time in the fight.

The fourth strike never finished its stroke. Mulan tried to follow what happened.

It looked like Coyot had anticipated the last attack and stepped inside the over swing, grabbing the arm that swung the sword.

It was over too quick, the man was on the ground looking up into the sky.

"It's over," Oyunbileg said.

"Creep," the girl smirked.

Mulan was about to ask what they meant as Coyot made no move to finish him. Then the man coughed up blood, and she realized.

"Coyot threw him on the daggers," she whispered.

"Yes. My husband needed to remind people of who he is.

"He is a peaceful man by nature, disliking violence. So when he has to be violent he strives to be the best. We have a quiet and prosperous domain; because fear keeps invaders out, rebels down, and subjects obedient.

"But sometimes, fools have to be reminded," the Altan finished. Mulan watched as Coyot retrieved his sword from he dead man's hand. He was smiling as he returned it to its sheathe.

'A wolf, that's the ornament on his sword,' Mulan realized.

They watched as he flipped the man over pulling out the daggers as a horse was lead to him. The warrior leading the horse mounted it, as Coyot tied rope to the saddle. The King of the Right looped the other end of the rope around the dying man's foot.

The Hun tried to rise only for Coyot to step back. With a kick the rider sent his horse into a gallop dragging the man out of the circle and sight.

"The deed is done," Coyot told the crowd. The crowd started to disperse, while the girl ran up to hug her father around the waist.

"So, any preferences for lunch?" Altan asked Mulan. Mulan let Choeten answer for her as Coyot walked over to them, his daughter under his arm.

Unegan watched the women and the King of the Right leave, stepping over the blood stains on the trampled grass. Kneeling down he reached out to pinch something between his fingers.

Smiling he tucked the strands of Coyot's hair into a pouch on his belt.

_Later:_

A space had been cleared, a wide circle bulging from an avenue leading from the Hill of Eight Bears. The ground had been packed through the efforts of warriors and shamans had said their blessings on it. Men and women lingered around the edges in curiosity, but none dared cross the threshold, into the prepared land.

In the center of the circle Bataar ran a gloved hand over the hole before him, testing it in some way. He was surrounded y the latticework of the half finished ger. A small ger, meant to be used for one night and to be erected by a single man.

"I remember when your father did this," Old Moon spoke. Bataar lifted his eyes from his work as the shaman entered the small space. The shan-yu did not respond, rising to walk past the old man to where some wood poles lay outside the latticework.

"He made seventeen in his time. None of them alike. Saw it with his father too, and his father, and his father, and a countless other men of lesser or no importance," Old Moon mused.

Bataar showed no sign he had even heard. With seemingly no effort he carried a pole into the construction area and eased it down the hole. Shifting it with a frown he watched how it settled. Old Moon sighed turning his eyes to the parts of the ger that were finished.

"Its not gong to be fancy what you have here.

"The marriage ger your father made for Zaya was something I tell you. They say you can tell what the marriage will be by the ger the groom raises with his own two hands. Zaya's wasn't much on the outside, but inside!

"Your father was dutiful to all his wives, but there were some he wouldn't have had save for honor or politics. Zaya was the last, and maybe the best. Not like his third wife, she was the chief wife for good reason. But Zaya, she had a way of reminding him, of the things we Huns can lose sight of.

"She seemed nothing more than the last wife to those who didn't look closer. But he knew she was an uncommon woman, a treasure" Old Moon recalled. Bataar stopped, before picking up the next pole.

"This won't be much to look at, what you're making here. But you're making it strong. Not pretty, but a ger fit to weather the storms of any season. Yes not pretty, but more inspiring than a gaudy ger that falls in the strong winds," Old Moon remarked.

He received no answer behind another pole falling into place. With a sigh the shaman turned his back, leaving Bataar to his work.

_The Next Night:_

Choeten escorted Mulan to Unegan's tent this time, Batu escorting her. Mulan was wearing an ankle length dress of dyed wool, mostly blue with gold dyed threads along the cut and wide sleeves.

The large and elegant tent was well light, with guards lingering around it. Choeten tugged her back behind Gaitan.

"Now remember he is your future in-law, but he is also a political rival for your husband. You must be polite, but not subservient in the slightest. He may think he is a wolf, but your wolf is bigger. You may need to remind him of that without telling him.

"How?" Mulan asked. She had no interest in looking after her captors political interests, but she would like to understand what this woman wanted of her.

"Ugh, you're a woman use; subtlety and grace to to make him a miss a step before you do.

"But not just womanly charms, he has wives so he has experience. You will need to work for it. But don't let him know you are trying.

"And watch out for Khongordzol, she's a rude forceful woman with no respect for the opinion of others. In fact be polite and suspicious of all his women; and try to make friends with at least one," Choeten advised.

"How many wives does he have?" Mulan wondered aloud.

"Six, and word goes round he has quite a backhand when it comes to his women if you know what I mean. Not that you need to worry, harming a shan-yu's intended is almost as bad as harming his horse," Choeten assured her.

"Almost on the same level as a horse eh?" Mulan remarked they reached the tent.

"It is a privileged status. Now have fun, and try not to start a blood-feud. Let me know how it turns out!" Choeten said practically pushing Mulan as the other was far from eager to enter the tent as the guards opened the door.

A scent from inside distracted her enough for Choeten's shove to send her over the threshold. Not pleased at being shoved she tried to turn back around only to have someone, Choeten, close the door in her face.

"Lady Maral, welcome," Unegan's smooth rich voice greeted. With a sigh Mulan turned around. She was surprised at the lay out of the tents main room. Unlike all the other gers a stove or fire did not dominate the center, instead a civilized low table was in the center.

And on the table was the source of the smell from before, Lion's Head Braised. The shaped meatballs sat in a soup in the center if the table waiting to be served. What's more it smelled like he had actually had crab powder used in the dish, how did a Hun get crab powder? Her eyes moved from the stunning main dish to the rice and vegetables ready to be served in the fashion of her own people.

"This is . . . most impressive," Mulan commented, her host looking up from the food.

Unegan smiled warmly at her and gestured at the empty spot across from him, its back to the door.

Mulan took the seat offered and accepted a cup of steaming tea. Breathing in the lovely aroma she looked at her hosts in the ornate room. Unegan was wearing a green silk vest over fine hun linens. His hair was pulled back into a lose pony tail.

To his left sat the woman from before. His chief wife no doubt. She and the two women occupying the other sides of the table were beautiful, well made up, and adorned with gold rings worked into their braids.

"This is Khongordzol, my chief wife and sister to one of my most loyal supporters. She has given me two daughters and no sons," Unegan introduced the woman seated next to him. The woman had preened at her husbands words, until the subject of sons was brought up. She became very interested in her tea after that.

"And these are my other two favored wives. Also mothers to daughters," Unegan told her. The women nodded to her smiling. Mulan could not help but notice the smiles did not reach their eyes. Same for the chief wife, watching her a bit too much like Shan-Yu's bird.

A flap moved aside and Dalan entered to kneel by the table filling a tray with servings of the meal. The woman with the half hidden face put the tray in front of Mulan.

Mulan hoped dearly her growling stomach couldn't be heard by anyone else. How long had it been? The army had decent fare, but Shang was not about to spend too much feeding his men anything too fine. Not that he reserved anything finer for himself.

That had been Chifu's place. Even now she could recall grumbling with the other men as the courtier sat at his own fancy little table nibbling on fancy food as they made do with rice and whatever dry meat or fish was at hand with pickled vegetables. Fortunately the march had put that to an end, the captain was not about to hinder their progress in the name of the courtiers gourmet tastes.

"Thank you," she said to Dalan as the woman rose. The wife of Unegan paused, and Unegan laughed.

"No need to waste your words on her. She is a lower wife, good enough for chores and the like, but well beneath the notice of a fine lady like yourself."

"Go, heat the rice wine slowly for later," Unegan ordered his lower wife. She snapped up to bow deeply to the man before departing with measured haste.

"Lower wife?" Mulan asked taking her first bite. To her surprise it did taste as good as it smelled.

"To all things there are hierarchies. She and the other two were investments that turned out to be poor. They're really quite useless, but I am too kind to turn them out. Instead they simply have to stir themselves to be useful," Unegan told her still smiling.

"You are a generous host," Mulan gave him a safe compliment. She ate along with the other women and nursed her tea.

The food was as fine as any her mother had ever prepared, but she found herself unable to truly enjoy the meal. The wives of Unegan ate, but it was too calm and measured she thought, as if they were deliberately keeping pace with her.

They asked a few questions always in the same order. Useless idle questions about preparations for the wedding. The small conversation was as awkward as the silence she thought.

And Unegan, he never touched his food save to stir it a bit with his chop sticks. He never said a word to her or to his wives. He just sipped his tea and refilled it from the pot when he had depleted the cup. And watched her.

And watched, even as she had finished half her food and found her appetite quite gone.

'I was better off with Choeten's bickering family. Or even Oyunbileg's crude humor and dry food,' Mulan thought. She almost wished Cri Kee would emerge from her clothes to mess this up somehow.

She picked up her cup to find it empty. The thought of asking the silent staring man for more was too much she found.

"Sire, your food is delightful, but a bit too rich after so long with such, rugged fare," Mulan told him. She willed mother's lessons on polite evasions to return to the front of her thoughts at once.

The man's smile slipped, she was glad for it. His raised eyebrow was far less troubling than that attention had been.

"I think I would like to step out for a moment," Mulan said standing up. She smacked herself internally, she should have asked permission before standing! But Unegan did not object instead watching her with some idle consideration. Khongordzol stood up as well, red lips parted in a wide smile.

"Alone, if you please?" Mulan cut off the offer before it could be made. There was no mistaking the angry flash in the other woman's eyes, before those eyes turned to her husband. With a small smile Unegan gave her a nod. Mulan bowed deeply, and headed out the door.

She couldn't sigh in relief as the two guards watched her curiously at their posts. Giving them a hopefully sincere smile, she hung a left and started walking around the tent.

It looked like Choeten had deserted her. And she didn't like how the absence of the domineering barbarian was making her feel just now.

"What am I doing? I'm offending the one Hun that tries to be civilized and is willing to help me," she reprimanded herself. It seemed she was finally out of earshot, so she let off a bit of steam.

She wished she was still herding goats, she hadn't been alone to practice any of her staff stances or unarmed combat. Or get near any horses in a way that mattered.

And her unease made her feel guilty. She couldn't help but be reminded of the formal dinners with other families she had attended back home. Why was it easier when she had been eating with a bunch of sloppy soldiers or Huns that would slit her throat in an instant?

'What is wrong with me?' she asked in her head. Her face turned up as she walked, the sky was clear and the heavens were beautiful and cold above her.

The stars seemed different here, not completely alien, but enough. At least in the midst of this mass gathering they didn't make her feel as small as on the rest of the steppes.

'Father, are you looking up at the stars back home?' she wondered.

Laughter broke her melancholy. Little girls laughter.

Curiosity piqued Mulan rounded the tent finding a large nook built into it. She had found the kitchen, she realized seeing not only a Hun stove but what looked to be portable Han stove amidst the lanterns hung from poles.

A Hun woman with three braids seemed to be in the process of dousing the stoves while a group of girls played under foot. From a toddler clinging to the woman's grey dress they ranged to what she guessed to be ten years old. A few were dressed finely with shiny boots, while most had worn plain clothes.

Watching the games of chase and keep away Mulan saw the moment she was spotted. Another Hun woman entered the area from a flap door in the tent, carrying another toddler girl who was dressed in a red dress. The woman stopped in her tracks clearly shocked to see her. Mulan wondered if she was a servant with how poor the condition of her clothes were.

"Who's that?" the girl she was holding demanded. This seemed to get everyone's attention.

"Hi?" Mulan said raising a hand awkwardly.

The girls watched her curiously, even as the older girls put restraining hands on the younger ones.

"You are, lady Maral?" the cook asked uncertainly.

"Yes?" Mulan answered uncomfortable.

"You're pretty," a little hun girl with two braids said. She was practically standing on Mulan's feet looking up at her.

"Thanks," mulan said reflexively patting the cute girl on the head. To the girls this seemed like a signal and they abandoned what they were doing to give their full attention to the new comer.

Mulan found herself surrounded and pelted with questions and introductions from the children, more than one tugging on her dress. A sharp clap silenced the din Mulan had been trying to reason down.

The cook stepped up to the small press followed by the the frazzled looking woman who had apparently put the girl from earlier down.

"Girls behave. This woman is your father's guest and the intended for your royal uncle," the woman said. Mulan noted her hair was pulled back revealing a prominent widow's peak. Her mouth seemed the type to frown easily, but her eyes had a pleasant glitter to them.

It had some effect subduing the girls. But it was far from total.

"Does that mean you're going to be our aunt?" one of the girls asked grabbing her hand.

"Yes?" Mulan offered awkwardly.

"Uncle Bataar is scary, but so is poppa," the girl told her.

"That's quite enough! I'm sure Lady Maral doesn't want you bothering her. Odgerel please be a treasure and take them somewhere?" the cook asked the other woman.

The other woman gave her an empty look before bending down to pick up one of the girls. The girls trailed off after he as she carried the girl off around the tent and out of sight. The girl holding Mulan's hand gave a squeeze before letting go.

"I heard you were a doll, but you can beat boys on horses! I have a doll, Odgerel made her for me!" the girl said. Mulan sucked in a harsh breath when the girl held up the doll in her free hand. She realized after a moment it wasn't 'that' doll; but it was close.

"Enough child, off with your sisters," the cook gently pushed the girl on her way.

"Okay momma! See you later Auntie Deer!" the girl waved before running off after the other girls.

"Your daughter?" Mulan asked catching her breath. She liked children, but she had not been prepared for that on top of everything else. The cook caught her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile, before straightening up as if shouted out. The woman bowed deeply.

"I am terribly sorry about this! I offer apologies on behalf of my husband for any offense," she said quickly.

"No offense, I like children," Mulan told her. What she had seen and heard fell into place then.

"You are one of Unegan's wives," Mulan realized.

"Solongo at your service," the woman said.

"And those, were Unegan's children," Mulan continued.

"Yes, daughters of the favored wives, and the rest of us. We were told to keep them out of the way while you were here," the cook said.

"Lady Maral?" Dalan said as she emerged from the house with a tray from the dinner party in hand.

"Hi Dalan," Mulan greeted the spooked looking woman.

"You're not supposed to be here! I mean, of course if our husband wants you to be, but not," the woman stumbled over her tongue.

"Its alright! I was just getting some air!" she assured the two nervous women. Now she felt awful, it seemed like she was causing these two and probably that other woman no end of trouble.

"Where are the girls?" Dalan asked, seeming to realize the children were not present.

"I had Odgerel take them somewhere else," Solongo said.

"By herself!? Tell me you didn't let her pick one of them up! Her arm still isn't- Lady Maral is there anything we can get for you?" Dalan snapped before turning calm as she seemed to remember Mulan was there.

"I'm sorry for causing you trouble, is there any way I can help?" Mulan offered gesturing for the agitated woman to calm down. When both women's eyes widened and they stepped bak Mulan wondered what she was doing wrong now.

Then she realized someone was behind her.

"Is that how you would greet my honored guest? Stained from the kitchen and not fit to wash a horse?" Unegan asked as he stepped beside Mulan.

"Forgive us our thoughtlessness," the two women chimed getting on their knees to bow. Unegan ignored them stepping in front of Mulan and giving her a slight bow.

"I'm sorry these two spoiled the evening like this," he apologized.

"They didn't! Its no trouble," Mulan stated. She had a vey bad feeing just now.

"You are too kind for these ugly lands fair lady.

"Away you two! I have matters to discuss, matters above the likes of you," he told his two wives. Mulan watched them hastily back away before getting to their feet and nearly running off.

"Really, I'm the one who barged in. Dalan wasn't even here then," Mulan told him. He just smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face aside. She resisted an urge to slap the hand away.

"Forget those two. I want to talk about you, and what we can do for each other," he said instead.

"The wedding?" she gulped. Just thinking about it was making her knees want to buckle now.

"I can't stop it," he told her. His eyes looked like he was actually sorry about that.

"I could perhaps challenge Bataar for your hand. The law allows it among royalty. But facing that monster in single combat, it would end poorly for us," he told her sadly.

'Since when is there an _us_?' Mulan wondered.

"So you just want to congratulate me?" she asked with more venom than intended. His eyes gleamed and he smiled while using a finger tip to raise her her chin to look up into his face.

"I would sooner congratulate someone for getting the plague. I could tell you tales of how he ravages women, but not one lives to give report," he whispered.

Mulan couldn't conceal the shudder, it felt like beetles were crawling all over her.

"I can't save you from that. But there is another way," he said. She raised her eyes, wishing he was not still holding her chin however lightly.

The King of the Left pressed something small and cold into her right hand.

"Careful, it is sharp," he warned.

A blade no longer than smallest finger, in a thin sheath. She drew it, stepping back out of his grip. A slender piece of steel, more razor than knife.

"You will be wearing a headdress for the ceremony and bedding. When he is done he will sleep, and you can avenge yourself. The way to beat a monster, is to not fight him. You win by guile.

"When he is dead I will be Shan-Yu, and you will have your freedom and passage south with all the treasure the strongest horse can carry," he told her softly.

Mulan replaced the knife in its sheath and looked up at him.

"You want me to kill your brother?" Mulan demanded.

"He killed my father, and stole my birthright. Huns are not like your elegant race. They are savages, and the murder of kinsmen to climb the ranks is hardly unusual," he said plucking the knife back.

'You say that as if you are not one of them,' she thought.

"You don't have to say anything, it will be there. The choice is yours, be sure to make the right one," he said, once again all charm and smiles.

"Would you like to go back in for some rice wine?" he asked.

"Actually, I don't feel to well," Mulan told him honestly.

"I will have you escorted back to your tent at once then. A woman needs her strength at times like this," he assured her.

This one is a beast too. A serpent in the grass instead of a wolf on the plain, Mulan thought grimly as the Hun called over some guards.

_The Night Before the Wedding:_

Voices roused Mulan from her sleep. Turning over in her blankets by the heating stove she saw Oyunbileg by the door. The warrior woman was in her ratty night clothes, lacking even her eye patch, a hand pressed over her missing eye.

Getting up Mulan caught the visitor's attention. Mulan recognized him easily enough, Ulaan, her escorts husband. And a Hun she unfortunately owed a debt too, she recalled sourly.

He looked back to his wife, expression unchanged.

"Arguing is pointless, this is not my will to be changed," he told his wife. Oyunbileg turned looking at Mulan with her remaining eye, and sighed.

"Fine, Maral get your cloak and boots," Oyunbileg spat.

Soon enough Mulan was being marched through the night shrouded gers by Ulaan. She held her deer hide tight against the cold. This wouldn't be a problem if he had let her get properly dressed.

This had better not be another Hun ritual, she thought mutinously.

"Tomorrow you wed my Shan-Yu. It seems oddly appropriate a woman who bested him in war should have that honor," Ulaan commented dryly. Mulan wasn't sure what to say to that, so she said something else.

"Did I ever thank you for saving me?" she asked.

"I didn't save you. I was following orders, gratitude for that is pointless," he told her abruptly.

"Are you saying you would have joined him in . . . that, if you had been ordered?" Mulan asked. She hated how much the memory frightened her. Would it have completely destroyed her if he had . . . done it, if it hurt this much from him just trying?!

He didn't answer, they came to a stop before a small ger, a thin plume of smoke coming from the top. The smell reminded her of the smithy, but not the same.

"Lasuluun is waiting for you inside," Ulaan told her. Her heart nearly skipped a beat.

"No!" she yelled stepping back. Ulaan grabbed her arm. She pulled back her free fist to hit him as Shang had taught her. His bored expression made her hesitate.

"He's not going to do anything, fool. You belong to our shan-yu, without his permission harming you without cause would be, a very bad idea," Ulaan told her as if she was a dumb child.

"Then why?" Mulan demanded.

"He is our interrogator. No doubt he is to intimidate you into not embarrassing Bataar tomorrow. He is good at that. So just go in and get it over with, then you can get back to sleep," the archer told her. Mulan looked away from him to the door to the ger.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

"Yes, you can go in with dignity or be dragged in by the warriors watching us," he told her.

Mulan wrenched her arm from his grip and went to the door. After a moments hesitation she opened the door and stepped inside. She didn't close the door, the smell of the metal and fire was overpowering.

"Sit," Lasuluun's voice came. She saw him over the fire in the small ger's center. There were no other lights, just the fire under the smelting pot.

Keeping her back to the still open back door mulan sat, watching him intently. His long face was cast in shadows he had some kind of tool he stuck into pot lifting melted bronze into sight.

"You know I have something in common with the twins? We haven't gotten along in years, but we all came to Bataar for similar reasons. His Uncle's rule took our fathers' from us.

"Oh but their father died with glory and honor, fighting for his shan-yu and helping Bataar himself to escape the Night of Daggers. My father was not so fortunate.

"He was a bronze shaper, an honorable profession. A poor warrior, he hoped he would gain some measure of glory through me. He was a kind man, foolish,and weak.

"My mother was weak as well. She never bore him another living child, and died herself the last time.

"My father thought to replace her with a new woman. This woman was young and beautiful, with an eye on my father's wealth. She was a whore as well, not a year after she married him she betrayed him with men she found more enjoyable.

"He was blind to her betrayal, I was not. My father saw only a step sons anger, he refused to cast her out like the trash she was.

"Eventually our tribe was visited by a prominent lackey of the Usurper, looking for tribute. He found the whore far more interesting than his master's business. And she had found someone with far more wealth and power than her husband.

"She quickly persuaded her lover she was a woman like no other. Heh, if only. So he took care of the obstacle between him and his desire. He claimed offense for a minor matter, and challenged my father to a duel.

"I still remember my father being slaughtered like a goat; and that woman practically taking his killer in front of everyone before his body was cold.

"There was nothing I could do. Not even when she took everything but the tools of his trade. Women are weak, so they twist men to steal their strength for their own.

"For years when I went to war, I would take women, seeing her laughing face under me. But it was never enough, because she was still out there, still smiling.

"I served Bataar well, using the tools of my father's trade to do things others would rather not. And he rewarded me with my heart's desire when the war was won," Lasuluun told her as he stirred the bronze.

"She was my best work, I took my time, I used heated bronze sparingly to burn her wounds shut. A tribute to my father and all the men she ruined in her useless wicked life.

"I understand women, witch. What lurks behind the smiles and empty pretty words. I would like nothing better than to take my time with you," he said. He lifted a piece of bronze again, nearly illuminating his face.

"Its the place of my shan-yu to put you in your place. But if you cause him trouble, I will be waiting to do whatever he will let me do to you.

"So mind your place and play your part. Because there is no man to save you from him, or me," Lasuluun said lowering the bronze.

"That's enough," Ulaan said coming into the tent.

Ulaan pulled Mulan out and into the night. She returned with him in silence, the smell of melted bronze seeming to stick to her. Oyunbileg was waiting outside the tent, and practically snatched her up by the shouders.

The other woman inspected her face and then hands before pulling her cloak to check underneath. Soon enough the one eyed woman's inspection was done and Mulan found herself back in her bedding.

Sleep did not come till morning was nearly at hand.

_Wedding Day, the Hill of Eight Bears:_

The great tent atop the hill was abuzz with muted chatter among the gathered crowd. Honored warriors, chieftain's kin, their women, and distinguished foreigners given the right to attend the ceremony directly eagerly awaited the ceremony.

The crowd was divided by an aisle, where the chiefs and kings loitered at the edge of the green and gold persian rug running down its length. This time they wore swords on their belts, and dressed in fine wools and linens adorned with jewelry of gold and bronze. Silk was absent in their attire, a consideration towards the recent lost war with the Han.

The aisle opened into a wedge at the far end of the tent, where Old Moon stood on hides of various animals, a wolf and deer being the top most. The shaman looked no more presentable than usual, though he stood a bit straighter as he propped himself on his staff, a small closed smile replacing his usual smirk. And his good eye seemed to glow with patient expectation.

At some unseen signal he pulled a knife from his belt and held it up before, him blade down. It was made entirely of bronze a two edged blade as long as his hand, with no guard between cutting edge and the smooth grip.

A lesser shaman stepped forward and placed a bronze bowl small enough to fit in one hand on the ground. Bowing to the eldest shaman the lesser spirit man retreated.

Old Moon pointed the knife at the carving covered door that covered the entry.

A trio of bronze nao bells sat to the left of the door, shamans standing ready behind them with bronze tripped strikers

One inverted bell was struck by a shaman, a single deep clear note silencing the tent.

The door was opened outward by the hand of an unseen Hun. And Bataar walked in, the wedding had truly begun.

The Shan-Yu surprised nearly all in attendance. While it was tradition, even the greatest of victories had only seen him don the humblest of finery. Today, to the foreigners especially, he truly looked the part of a ruler of men.

On his head he wore a hat of black fur, with a linen trim covering much of His brow with a rectangular pattern of red on pale blue. He wore a long sleeved jacket of red linen, bordered on the sleeves and collar with grey fur, patterns running along the sleeves and hem in small patterns of yellow thread. The shoulders and chest were adorned with golden plates sewn onto the fabric, wolves heads upon his shoulders, and wolf paws on his chest. As he advanced they they saw a golden falcon plate rested between his shoulders.

As he placed new boots on the carpet the two chieftains now flanking him drew their swords. And planted them point first into the ground at the carpets edge. The chieftains stepped back bowing their heads in respect.

As he reached each opposing pair of chieftains the process repeated, leaving a trail fenced by swords in Bataar's wake. At the mouth of the aisle the Kings of the Right and Left awaited him.

Coyot and Unegan drew their own swords, and pulled them close to their chests pointing up. Bataar glanced to each nodding his head, though perhaps hesitating as he met Unegan's smiling face.

And then he stepped clear of the mass onto the hides and to the left of where Old Moon waited.

"Rejoice children of Mokar! You have been called here today to witness a most joyous occasion. Here on the most sacred of grounds, within the sights of spirits great and small, and all ancestors, our Shan-Yu, Bataar son of Tianlinn, of the Line of Modu shall take his first wife!" Old Moon announced, his voice crisp and clear.

_Meanwhile, At the foot of the Hill:_

Mulan stepped out of a hastily erected tent at the base of the Hill of Eight Bears. She could hear the old women chatting excitedly, and still arguing, inside. She was relieved they had not followed her out when she asked for air.

They had been most concerned with how listless she was this morning. Mulan knew she could take that man in a fair fight, but the thought of him chilled her. Even more than Shan-Yu, who had humiliated her, and taken her father's sword. But . . . it wasn't the same.

Now here she was dressed up to wed the wolf eyed beast that had razed northern China. She looked up at the Hill and shuddered, he was up there, waiting for her.

"Psh Mulan!" a familiar voice whispered.

"Mushu?" Mulan gasped as the dragon quickly climbed up her legs and back to perch on her shoulders.

"No worries, your guardian spirit has not been idle!" he told her.

"Where have you been?" Mulan whispered back checking around for any Huns.

"The shamans are onto me. Its not just the bears, they've got spirit horses, that hawk; and even some scary wolf made of smoke with bloody paw prints sniffing after me," Mushu told her.

"I'm glad you're okay," Mulan sighed.

"Hey, the Magnificent Mushu is no ones entree! The important thing is I have an escape plan," he told her.

"Really?" Mulan demanded picking him off her shoulder to hold in front of her.

"Yeah, the Huns are going to take you up the hill on a horse," he told her holding up a hand as if to stop someone from reading his lips.

"Yes?" Mulan pressed.

"I have a pack full of lots of stuff that should be useful on the road. When they put you on the horse, you steal the horse, grab my pack, and we ride south! We find the Great Wall, we climb over it, and then we head back to the farm!" he told her excitedly.

Mulan closed her eyes, and gave a very deep sigh. She kneeled to put a puzzled Mushu on the ground. Without rising she lifted the headdress she wore off and plucked Cri Kee off her hair, and put him down in front of Mushu.

"Go," she told them. Cri Kee gave a sad chirp while Mushu's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me!?" he demanded.

"That won't work Mushu. I've been trying to think of way out of this the whole time. I can't escape a whole nation, especially not a horde of warriors who have shamans that can call spirits to do their biding. Whatever happens to me, it goes through that tent," Mulan said pointing to the Hill.

"But!" Mushu objected before Mulan growled at him.

"I'm not giving up but there's nothing I can do right now okay!? Maybe not for a long time! But you two can get away.

"So do it! Go home or wherever before the cold or the Hun Guardians kill you both! You're not really guardian spirits, you don't need to keep risking yourselves for me," Mulan said the heat draining away.

Mushu stood stunned, looking at her his head tilting to the side. Cri Kee just looked between the kneeling woman and the small dragon dejectedly.

The sound of a horse caught Mulan's ear, with no time or anything else she grabbed Mushu and threw him away and hopefully out of sight. Thankfully Cri Kee went after the dragon, letting Mulan stand up and replace her headdress.

Batu and Gaitan came into sight leading a beautiful mare.

"Its time Maral," Gaitan said. He looked like he was a bit sorry to say it. Mulan nodded ascent and walked up to meet the two men.

**X X X**

Old Moon finished his blessing and pointed with the dagger to the two halves of the crowd. Shamans seemed to rise from nowhere to step up between the swords. They were not adorned like the others. Like Old Moon they dressed as they aways did, adorned with eadols and hides, the scents of strange things and places on them, and pouches sagging with who knew what.

The shamans manning the bells struck their bells in measured succession. The deep note from before was followed by two notes of increasing lightness, though still dignified and deep. The door did not open.

It was lifted away, and carried off as the tent was parted back from the hole letting the red and purple sky of sunset be seen.

Batu and Gaitan, wearing pants heavy with trinkets of gold and silver, and bracelets of thick gold engraved with boars, lead a dark brown mare in. The bride sat atop it, all eyes on her.

Lasuluun watched her, surprise quickly changing to dark anticipation as he smiled. Shirchin blinked and feeling eyes on him glanced to where Oyunbileg was dressed like a proper woman for once, she mouthed two words to him and he suppressed the scoff.

Ulaan by his wife's side noted the appearance with satisfaction. All seemed to be well.

Gaitan helped her down placing her on the carpet.

Mulan's dark hair was mostly hidden by a conical headdress the size of her head wrapped in fine white cloth. A thin piece of cord held a bronze ornament of a leaping deer against her brow.

A necklace of long thin gold plates hung tight to her neck. She wore an open deep red jacket. The sleeves were wide and lined with pure white wool, patterns in white silk dancing across them. The open jacket showed stylized does along the seam decorated with rings of glittering gold. Under the jacket she wore a deep blue dress that ran down to her ankles where pointed black boots covered her feet.

With a small push to her back by Gaitan, she stepped onto the carpet.

Glancing to the huns on all sides she took another step in the heavy silence, eye falling to the swords around her.

It rose in a whisper, chanting. The shamans worked eadols and other charms in their hands as their spells and prayers were spoken. Sighing Mulan lowered her eyes and walked slowly down the aisle.

_Northern China:_

Khan huffed in annoyance as a fly buzzed around his head, atop him Fa Zhu watched the stallion be tormented by such a small thing with a little bit of amusement. The Fa patriarch cut an impressive figure in his armor and on horseback. His cane was wrapped up in one of the bundles secured behind the saddle, the new sword at his side.

The two were making their way along a high road through the rugged northern countryside. They had entered the lands razed by Shan-Yu's army, the ruins reminded him all to well of his own time as a soldier.

And yet nature continued about its business regradless. Looking on these mountains and forests one would never know that the fate of an empire had been imperiled so recently.

"Still north?" he asked Khan, snatching the fly out of the air. The black stallion let out a relived breath at the pests removal, and seemed to nod. Fa Zhu released the fly which flew away on the wind.

"Where have you gone Mulan?" Fa Zhu wondered. There was a good deal of territory between here and the Great Wall.

Khan tensed under him nostrils flaring and ears pressing back.

"What is it?" Fa Zhu asked. Naturally the horse didn't answer but it walked as stealthily as it could manage to a blind bend in the road. The old soldier drew his sword, he could hear it now.

When Khan leaned to get his look around the trees obscuring the road, Fa Zhu was able to see as well.

"Bandits," Fa Zhu cursed.

The road dropped down into a valley in front of them, and a caravan of some kind was under attack. The wagons were covered, but he could glimpse people in them taking shelter. Armored guards with spears were holding back bandits that had emerged from the woods.

But the guards and wagons were being harried by archers on high ground. Specifically they were using the road to fire down without the trees impeding their aim.

And their backs were to him and Khan. Man and horse shared a glance and gave a nod to one another.

_The Hill of Eight Bears:_

Through a hole in the tent roof Mushu watched the proceedings. Along with Cri Kee he was under a cloth matching the massive tent. The dragon felt a chill run up from the tip of his tail to almost give him brain freeze at the chanting.

Regardless he pulled the butchers knife he had stolen off his back and cut a gash carefully from the hole.

"Okay Cri Kee, one more time. I'm going down there with the whole light show, and head straight for big-bad-and-ugly. Everyone will be watching me set him on fire, especially the shamans. You get Mulan out and onto that horse.

"Once your out of the tent get to the horse I got packed and you two head south!" Mushu whispered. He gulped at the thought of attacking Shan-Yu, especially while an ancient spirit man was standing there with a gaggle of disciples.

He almost missed Cri Kee's question.

"What?! Of course I'll catch up with you guys! I may be a bit delayed, but hey once you get over the Wall you're home free. We'll get tea and biscuits back at the farm and laugh about all this Queen of the Hus nonsense," Mushu lied, poorly.

Cri Kee Gave a troubled chirp. Mushu patted him on the head as he braced for launch, waiting for just the right moment.

The cloth covering them was pulled away, and a hot wind blew over Mushu.

A ghostly Hun horse glared down at him nostrils flared. Smiling Mushu reached up to pat its snout, while hiding the knife poorly behind his back.

"Oh, hello there! I'm a guardian spirit too! Wow, it is just fascinating to meet someone else in your line of-GO!" Mushu screamed. Turning from the other spirit the little dragon lunged for the hole in panic.

His head passed through, his progress halted as he yelped about his tail. Which was clenched between the stallions teeth. Lofting its head and standing it pulled Mushu clear of the hole.

The dragon yelled insults about its ancestors as the spirit cantered through the air to a spot where at least a dozen spirit horses waited.

Swinging the knife wildly as he spun in the grip Mushu froze feeling himself being watched. The near transparent horses stood in a circle he was being held out into, they did not look pleased.

"Stand back, I know how to use this!" Mushu threatened them with the knife. A hoof came from his left knocking the blade away, a smaller mare caught it between her teeth grinning.

"Nice trick, you know what? You should go into show business!" Mushu suggested as she clopped into the circle, and put her rear to Mushu.

"I don't suppose we could talk about this?" Mushu asked sweating. The rear kick sent him flying from his captors grasp.

"Ha! Ah!" Mushu laughed at his freedom. Only for it to turn to a squawk as he saw he was heading another waiting horse.

Cri Kee chirped worriedly watching the Hun guardian spirits use Mushu as a hacky sack.

**X X X**

The bandit archers were clad in pieces of armor, no doubt stolen from a battlefield along with the weapons. Their hair was messy, Fa Zhu noted, they had no formation or discipline.

For the instant when they heard a horse baring down on them, they turned to look rather than moving.

His sword cut clean through the first man. The second was trampled by Khan. The third archer moved enough to simply have his arm mostly severed at the elbow.

The fourth archer managed to be out of reach, Fa Zhu letting the frightened man's eyes with his on gaze. This was little more than a foul spirited boy. He wondered what the bandit saw in his own eyes? It was enough to make him run.

With a battle cry Fa Zhu turned Khan and their charge down the hill resumed as the bandits turned towards the danger. A bandit spearman took a step to confront the new danger, only for a spear to burst through his chest.

The guards raised their own cry charging at their attackers in the moment of confusion.

**X X X**

Mulan glanced to the sides, past the shamans and chiefs at the aisles edge. She caught sight of Oyunbileg wearing a small smile. And Lasuluun, his dour face split in a grin when he met her eyes.

She hoped Mushu would take the wiser course and leave, knowing he wouldn't.

Despite Lasuluun, and all the Huns around her, she was tempted to make a break for it. To pull out one of these swords and see if she could fight her way out.

But that was just another way of giving up. It would end with her dead one way or another. And she would not end her father's line for her own pride. There was a way out, but it was not a straight path.

She imagined she could feel the weight of the knife tucked into the headdress.

Unegan caught her eye as she reached the aisles end, a small almost pleasant smile as he stood to her left.

Then she was there, before Old Moon and next to Shan-Yu. She glanced to her so called intended and double-taked at his grander appearance.

The chanting stopped, audible in the sudden silence. Old Moon knelt to pick up the bowl of bronze she had overlooked on the floor. It was a task for the elder, and she almost reached out to help. But he managed, precariously holding the bowl and knife in one hand while supporting himself on the staff.

"Marriage, its a time of beginnings and endings. When the son becomes the master of his own house, and the daughter leaves her father's name and protection for her husbands.

"It begins what is completed in the birth of the firstborn. The joining of two destinies into one. Two threads tied together thereafter.

"On this spot, Modu met with those who were his foes and rivals. That was the way of the Huns, each chieftain a king in his own right, loosely held together through a common heritage and way of life. That way died on this spot, and a new way was born.

"So it is here that which was passes away, to make way for what will come to be," Old Moon said. Mulan was oblivious at the stirring in the crowd, not knowing this had strayed into unfamiliar territory.

"Our Shan-Yu Bataar comes here in the face of great defeat, the death of many great warriors. He is here to answer death with life.

"This woman, comes to us from the land of our foes. By the grace of the spirits she has been delivered through many trials, passed many tests, and now stands before the Huns.

"I have looked into her spirit, and it shines blinding bright, a sun that brings light even into the dark places of the world! The Sky Stallion finds her worthy of the People of the Horse, and the land has given her a name!

"Bataar, take the knife," Old Moon commanded. Bataar took the blade from the gnarled hand and held it steady in his own. His face was set in a slight scowl.

"The blood of man," Old Moon said holding out the bowl. Expression unchanging Bataar pulled off the glove on his left hand letting it fall to the ground. The cut he made on his palm was shallow, enough to let several drops fall into the waiting bowl.

"The blood of woman?" Old Moon asked turning to Mulan. Bataar reversed the bronze knife as he grabbed her hand by the wrist. To her shock it was not a vice, it was just enough to pull an unresisting hand over the bowl.

**XXX**

The last bandit threw down his sword raising his hands as three guards surrounded him, their bloodstained spears leveled at him.

Fa Zhu watched with approval as one of the guards seized the man. Even if the man would likely be executed for his crimes, you don't kill a foe who has surrendered on the battlefield. He rubbed the stallions neck.

"You fought well Khan," he told his horse. Unsurprisingly he received no more answer than a look back from the horse.

"Thank you sir, for a moment there I though we were lost," a fat man with a long draping mustache emerged from some of the wagons. He wore the blue uniform of a courtier, Fa Zhu bowed his head in respect.

"No need to be formal, we owe you our lives. We are part of the Emperor's Northern Reconstruction project, creating outposts to pave the way for the resettlement of the towns decimated in the recent war I am-" the fat man continued.

Khan was glad he could ignore the human. It was clear this was one that was fond of the sound of its own voice. Bored Khan looked around, this valley would make a good camp site he decided, especially since the previous occupants were taken care of.

The stallions head jerked as he saw it. In the foliage just beyond the cleared space by the roadside. The last archer, bow taut, aim taken, at his rider with a hate filled eye.

There was no time, the arrow was loosed, the sight of it filling the stallions vision as he struggled to move in an instant.

**XXX**

Her eyes met his, were her's as unreadable? She somehow doubted it.

Mulan didn't notice the cut until after it was made. Pulling back her bleeding hand she looked at the blood pooling in the bowl.

"Once mixed it cannot be unmixed, the blood is joined as is destiny. Sun and Moon, in harmony or opposition, joined in the same dance of ages. And given to the earth from which they came," Old Moon proclaimed.

He leaned over to hold the bowl over uncovered and poured the small stream of blood onto the exposed ground.

"I give you the people of the horse, the bride of Bataar, Hachin of Huns!" Old Moon proclaimed raising his staff from the ground for a moment to hold it over head.

**X X X**

It passed in a blur for Mulan as she was eased into sitting there before the crowd by Shan-Yu, and the gifts were presented.

She was certain Ulaan was the first, and learned his father's name was also Ulaan. He gave his master eight heads of goat as a gift. With muted surprise Mulan herself received a bow handcrafted by Oyunbileg. The two Huns gave warriors either their gift or some token symbolizing it to a shaman before returning to the crowd.

Barrago appeared at some point, giving a Persian cavalry sword to his liege.

Coyot and his wife came together after a few forgettable gift givers. He pulled his gift out from a bag of purple silk. A brilliant bronze charm the size of her palm. He announced it to have been made specifically for her by the hands of his uncle.

She blushed a bit, realizing it depicted, masterfully, a stag mounting a doe.

His blue eyed wife stepped forward and affixed it to her neck.

"Conception is guaranteed with this," the other woman whispered. Mulan resisted the urge to gag at the words.

Finally the Huns seemed done with their tributes, it occurred to her Bataar had received a fortune of sorts. Even she apparently had a small herd of sheep, goats, and a yak to her name now.

An elderly Persian, thin and resplendent in bright colors beneath the strange headdress, his beard snow white, came first.

He was announced as Karman of Persia, Head of the Slavers Association. He went to his knees bowing before Bataar, and her?

"Mighty Bataar, this unworthy merchant offers ten slaves to you as a gift this day. They are young strong men, gelded and thoroughly broken to the yoke. They will work hard at any task and will never lift a word much less a hand in defiance," the slaver announced with a flourish.

The slaves were not present instead the Persian handed over a scroll to one of the shamans. Mulan idly guessed it was some kind of deed of ownership for the poor men.

The next Persian offered camels as his present, she had seen the strange humped beasts earlier. Apparently they had pedigrees as well if this Persian was to be believed.

A familiar face followed, two actually. Kaspar of Merv bowed low before the Shan-Yu while his nephew slumped under the weight of the lacquered chest he had been carrying and the large rug strapped to his back.

"Your majesties, this humble son of Persia offers you the finest treasures of his tent. A carpet which is not only of such intricate design as to please even the nobles of the imperial court, but woven of such material as to be guaranteed to long endure your harsh and beautiful land," the fat man said as His nephew passed the carpet on to a pair of Hun warriors.

"And that is not all! I bring to you generous samples of all my finest oils! Oils for all the needs and desires oil can satisfy!

"Such fine wares and even more can be found at even finer prices at the tent of Kas-" The merchant announced. He cut himself off as the guard who was not carrying off the chest grabbed his shoulder.

"Move it Persian, we're on a schedule," the Hun said. Mulan almost smiled at the foreign man's antics, even at a time like this. It seemed fitting he was friends with someone like Gaitan.

There were Turkmen, other nomads, and peoples she supposed were vassals of the Huns. Some gifts were poor or strange, and she wondered if they were symbolic in some way rather than meant for their actual value.

Sadly the Huns were not as simple as she had been taught. If they were she doubted she would be in this situation.

Finally Old Moon spoke.

"The subjects and foreigners have paid their respects. Now it is time for the family gifts.

"Since the brides family cannot do so, King Unegan . . . Do you have a gift for the couple?" Old Moon asked. Smiling Unegan stepped from his place to stand before the new couple and the shaman. Two warriors she recognized as his tent guards came up the aisle carrying a long case.

"I can offer my brother no gift he doesn't already have. But he may enjoy my gift, to the radiant Hachin, nonetheless," he announced with charm. The warriors set the case down behind him and retreated. Stepping back and over the object with ease Unegan knelt, and threw back the lid.

Mulan snapped to attention at the sight.

"A beautiful and exotic gift, for a woman who is both those things. And a reminder of the gentler land of your birth," Unegan told her. She nodded staring at the very dress she had admired in Kaspar's shop.

She did not see that same merchant biting into his own fingers at the sight from his place in the crowd. Or the brief flash of irritation in the aged shaman's good eye.

Mulan watched the box as it was closed and carried away like the other gifts by the shan-yu's warriors.

"Does the husband have a gift for his new wife?" Old Moon asked. It sounded like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Mulan was actually curious as the stoic Hun simply looked forward for a few seconds.

The he put a finger to his lips and whistled. It was a high piercing note, and in the surprise it made her cringe. He lowered his hand and she watched him puzzled and a bit insulted, what was that supposed to be?

The sound of muffled hoofbeats and murmurs turned her attention from the warlord. Her eyes widened, watching the white mare trot down the aisle.

'Its the same one from the road. Wasn't it a gift for chieftain?' she realized. Coming to a stop before the two seated newly weds the horse cast an annoyed look to Bataar who simply tilted his head towards his new wife.

"Here," he said flatly.

"Ah, a fine gift indeed!" Old Moon practically cheered.

"Mine?" Mulan wondered aloud standing up. The horse swung its head in front of her looking her over appraisingly. Mulan reached out a hand to stroke it.

The hand darted back as the mare snapped at her fingers. There were some gasps from the crowd. Eyes flaring Mulan backhanded the horse, knocking its head aside.

The horse looked at her, clearly shocked at her act. Mulan put the same hand over her mouth, no less shocked by her actions.

"Ha! A pair of feisty nags, I picked well," Bataar laughed. The laughter spread through the tent, whether in genuine amusement or emulating their leader she didn't know.

"Quiet down!" Old Moon shouted.

"Time for the bedding and the feast! Take your bride sir!" Old Moon proclaimed. Mulan made the mistake of watching a guard cautiously take the mares bridle, when Bataar scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Cheering, cat calls, and various lewd suggestions were thrown at them as Bataar carried the fuming Mulan.

Old Moon wiped a tear from his cheek watching them go and turned to the younger shaman who had come up next to him.

"There they go! Two young people bound in matrimony against both their wishes by my plotting! I am become like the proud poppa, these moments make it all worthwhile," Old Moon sniffled.

"And now, lets go skin a dragon," he continued stone serious suddenly. He held out his hand as the younger spirit man put a black carving in the shape of a hand onto his palm.

**X X X**

Mulan watched the Hun crowd press against the marked boundary around the tent. It was quite the sight, a group of young shamans were holding them back in places, but most seemed to respect the curving line marked by poles.

In their own ways the Huns were as tradition bound as her own people.

Which she would have found far more interesting, if she wasn't seeing it as a beast of a man hauled her like a sack of rice.

Two familiar faces caught her face at the front of the crowd. Lasuluun, who mouthed a word to her she couldn't quite catch. The glimmer in those eyes told enough though. And Shirchin, who looked quite satisfied with the sight before him.

Then a door was flung open and she found herself nearly having the headdress knocked off by a door way mantle. Both hands seizing the precious hiding place and putting it back into place, Mulan didn't brace herself when she was tossed by her new husband.

She landed on something soft thankfully. And while the headdress fell free it was still close at hand.

Mulan watched without getting up, as Shan-Yu walked back to the simple door to the small ger. He stood in the doorway looking out, at the crowd of celebrating cheerers a ways off.

Mulan reached into the headdress, her fingers probing frantically for what unegan had promised.

A finger tip found something, cold and unyielding folded into the white cloth. And the door closed with a faint thud.

Looking up she watched as the wolf eyes turned on her, fairly glowing in the dark.

**X X X**

Mushu braced his back against the marriage Ger listening with the one ear not covered in hasty bandages. The dragon was more than half covered with bandages, his left eye swollen shut by a bruise, and a large bump rising between his ears.

Picking up a piece of mutilated cookware he turned his attention to Cri Kee beside him.

"This is it Cri Kee, the last stand, time to give it all even if it means coming up short. To stand before the pass and say, none shall pass!" Mushu declared as he armored himself with hastily cut and welded metal that had clearly been looted from a kitchen.

Cri Kee gave a worried chirp.

"What do you mean!? I don't tell you thinks!" Mushu yelled. Cri Kee cocked his head confused.

"For neither battered bones, nor ruptured spleen, nor horse induced concussion . . . in the brightest blackest night . . . its what your country can do for you . . . and dying trying! With liberty and justice for all!" Mushu slurred. Slamming his shoddy helmet on he swayed and pulled his knife out of the ground.

"Now lets do one for the home crowd!" he yelled to an increasingly confused cricket. Raising the knife to cut into the tent he neglected to notice mist rising around his bandaged, unarmored, tail. The mist rose in a clump, fingers unfolding to reveal a hand, the wrist trailing off into the distance.

Mushu gave a gargled war cry, and was pulled into a face plant as the mist hand grabbed his tail. Before he could say anything the hand shot back along its ethereal tail dragging him through the air.

"But I have not even begun to-!" Mushu protested clanking around in his armor. He was cut short as he was dragged into a collision with a pole amidst the revelry.

The hand lost its grip, Mushu's armor cracked and shattered, leaving him to fall dazed at a man's feet.

Coyot cocked an eyebrow looking down at the strange lizard that had fallen from above. Giving a drunkards smile it waved at him with tiny claws. The King of the Right raised his goblet in answer. And watched as a hand of mist probed the ground.

The red lizard sat up in time for its head to be grabbed by the hand. And was pulled out of sight in a moment.

"Hmm, its true. Royal weddings are more interesting," Coyot remarked sipping his drink.

**X X X**

Mushu's flight halted with a crack, leaving him to snap forward from the point his tail was caught in. He hung over a small fire atop a hill, the lights of the gers distant, eight staves pointed at him.

"Wssthis!? You want a piece of me?!" Mushu demanded flailing against his restraints and the empty air. A ninth staff whacked one of the surprised shamans over the head.

"Idiot! I said dragon not lizard," Old Moon reprimanded the greybeard. Forcing the younger man out of the circle Old Moon looked at Mushu with clear annoyance. His wrinkled face had designs smeared over it in soot and he wore a new talisman on around his neck. A curved white claw bigger than most men's fingers, from a dragon Mushu recognized.

Then the comment registered with him.

"Lizard!? I am a certifiable dragon! I don't do that tongue thing!" Mushu bellowed at the small man.

"Dragon? Bah, you are to small to be a dragon. But, you may be my most fearsome opponents lackey! Does he value you enough to attempt a rescue?"

Mushu fumed as he spat fire.

"I am a dragon! I will not be needing rescue cause I am the rescuer! Put me down tiny and we'll see who is small!" Mushu threatened.

"Well done shaman, you have captured a guardian spirit," Modu congratulated. The imposing ancestor of the shan-yus drifted to stand behind the elder shaman.

"Eh? Who keeps a lizard as a guardian spirit?" Old moon wondered sracthing his scalp.

"Actually this is a dragon, and a former guardian spirit I now see. Hmm," Modu commented. The shamans parted letting the powerful spirit examine Mushu with a curious eye.

"What!? This is it!? What a rip off! Here I am, ready to prove my magnificence fighting a great beast of great beasts, and what do I get. The tiny baby dragon! Oh that will make a good story I'm sure!" Old Moon ranted pacing around the fire. Modu rolled his eyes while the other shamans drifted off.

"Baby! Do you not see my manstache!" Mushu protested.

"I recall some dragons could change sizes, cage him," Modu ordered.

"You heard the dead guy, get the old iron pot!" the shaman barked wearily.

"No cook pot is going to stop me from stopping that bedding!" Mushu declared as one of the shamans hauled a heavy iron pot towards the fire.

Old Moon reached out and grabbed Mushu with a hand protected by a thick leather glove.

"Ha, too late for that, by now-" Old Moon gloated.

"Actually, he's not doing it," Modu spoke up.

"Exactly so you . . . What?" Old Moon gloated before trailing off to speak the one word, in sync with Mushu.

Modu pointed two fingers towards the small fire. The flames leapt up, turning blue, and amidst the flames a scene took shape.

**X X X**

Bataar squatted with his back to her, stoking the fire in the tiny stove. Mulan sat wit her legs held close enough that she could spring easily. Her hand was still inside the headdress, the small knife held tightly and unseen.

She would not let him, even if it meant she could kill him afterward.

'I'm sorry father, but how could I come back to you if I let this man take my maidenhead?' Mulan asked forgiveness in her head.

Putting aside the stoker Shan-Yu took off the fine cap and rose shrugging off the fancy jacket. As he folded the garment in his hands he turned to look at her.

Other than the headdress she had not changed at all from the wedding. If her so called husband wanted her, she was not going to make it the least bit easier for him.

She was ready. For his lunge. For him to laugh, knowing about the knife and not caring. For him to smile as he slowly approached her like wolf coming for is kill. Even for him to say how he asked his brother to do this as a sick joke.

None of it came. Without a word he walked to the other side of the stove, set down the folded jacket, and laid down on the flooring using the garment as a pillow.

He laid down facing away from her. Mulan rose to her knees as if being able to peer a bit better over the stove would change the sight a bit. She must have made some sound as he rolled over enough to see her.

"That is a very ridiculous look on your face," he told her dryly.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. What kind of sick toying around was he doing with her?

"You do not want me. Old Moon and the Circle can force me to take a wife, but I will not take a woman against her will. It has nothing to do with you, so don't get any ideas," he told her.

Stunned at the words mulan fell back into the kneeling position. With an irritated grunt Bataar rolled back over as she watched him.

**XXX**

"What?" Old Moon asked in confusion at the image of the two shown in the flames. He realized his word had been in synch with the dragon he had been holding captive. Deciding someone needed to pay he flung Mushu into the open pot with a clang.

As other shaman replaced the lid and began wrapping chain around the pot Old Moon glared into the magic fire.

"Now is the time you show me a conscience?" Old Moon muttered.

**XXX**

Mulan was getting sore in her position watching the man across the stove. She had been used to sitting like this back home, but in the army and on the steppes she had gotten out of the habit. But she dared not let her guard don until she knew the man was really asleep.

"Keep glaring daggers at me and I might just knock you out so I can get some proper sleep," Shan-Yu told her. The words startled her, she was sure she could hear him smiling at the reaction.

"If I wanted to harm you, you would be harmed whether awake or asleep. So you might as well get some sleep," he continued still not facing her.

"And just so you know, don't tell others I was so merciful. There are other ways you can be made to suffer," he continued.

Oddly enough the threat calmed her. Whatever this was it was not out of the goodness of his heart, she was able to tell herself. Probably something in the Hun politics. It didn't matter, she was keeping her virginity and her life for one more night at least.

The knife went back into its hiding place and she left herself fall back on the bedding. She had not realized how thick and soft the pelt was.

The emotional exhaustion of the day, the week even, pounced at last. Her head tilted toward the faint light of the stove, able to make out the rough shape of the man on the other side.

Mulan was surprised to find she was grateful, in spite of everything. And now she wanted to know what exactly that name the shaman had given her meant, it had better not mean nag or something, she decided. There was no time to ponder or worry over this, as sleep had already taken her.

**AN: Finally done! Writers block, a cold, and the holiday priorities all to to contend with. But it is done on the day, so enjoy. Now I can go work on some of my other stories for awhile.**

**Merry Christmas to you all!**


	9. Unfamiliar Territory

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Mulan.

_Betaed by:_ JazzQueen and Zim'smostloyalservant

* * *

**Unfamiliar Territory**

Mulan was snoring on her back when a booted foot nudged her cheek. Her head turned with it, and she kept snoring. Shan-Yu glared down at her, crossing his arms.

"Wake up," he commanded as he prodded her head with his boot again. He was rewarded with her eyes snapping open.

"Aiyah!" she cried sitting up. The tight dress ripped along her back at the motion. The sound seemed to shock her still.

"Well, that actually works out well enough. Something for the gossips to chew on," Bataar commented. She almost missed him tossing her a piece of white cloth.

Mostly white, and soggy.

"Clean yourself up a bit, it's time to face the day… my wife," he seemed to chew a bit on the last two words. Mulan wiped her face with the damp cloth, and released her hair from its binding, a bit sore from having slept with it up. She was careful not to take her eyes off the man looming over her more than she absolutely had to.

He sneered at her staring and turned to pace the tent. There was no anxiety in the pacing – it actually reminded her of Shang pacing before the ranks.

"You are probably wondering what happens next? The answer is little, if you are smart.

"As my first wife, you would be the head of my household overseeing my servants, slaves, tent, lesser wives and so on. I have no servants, or slaves, that need your minding, and I have looked after my own space for quite a while.

"I have little desire and less need for a queen. But here we are," he told her bluntly.

"So what am I supposed to do? Back to the goats?" Mulan demanded.

"No, as much as I would like to flaunt my displeasure by setting you to such a task, it would be impolitic. I heard you have some talent with horses; see to getting ready to ride your present. Beyond that, perhaps Choeten can think of something useful you can do.

"But I warn you. As far as anyone is concerned, I have not only wedded but bedded you. The truth would be… awkward for me. But I assure you, my unwillingness to take you does not bar other painful paths of vengeance if you shame me," he told her, voice dropping to a growl.

Mulan glared back at him, remembering a doll in the snow, a broken bell ringing dully in the wind.

"I don't need to be reminded what a monster you are," she told him.

"Good, then we understand each other.

"Old Moon is convinced you are some good luck charm, and convinced enough others to force me into this. In time, you will be presumed barren, and perhaps I can set you aside, or perhaps just demote you in favor of whatever girl the Circle forces on me next.

"Until then, do as you are told and you have my protection and the privileges of being my wife, such as they are," he told her.

Without another word he was gone, out the door into the morning light.

Mulan let out a long breath and fell back onto the hide bed.

"Well I suppose staying in here isn't an option," she told herself.

**XXX**

This was not going to be a good day, Mulan had decided. Not only was walking around in a torn fancy dress embarrassing, the fancy hat in hand no less, she had no idea what to do for breakfast. And she had hardly eaten anything yesterday.

For lack of any other direction, she found herself in the Shan-Yu's encampment. At the edge she hesitated; perhaps Unegan would offer some respite? But no, she quashed that thought – she did not want to come to the Shan-Yu's brother in such state.

She had pointedly ignored everything on her way over, but now the smell of food had a firm grip on her attention.

The Huns were dining outside, groups outside the different tents, many nursing hangovers as women and children brought out food from the tents.

"Oh forget it, I'm hungry enough I'd wrestle Chien Po for a bowl of rice," she whispered. A circle of Huns, mostly elders and boys with some young women, was the closest one. A stout bald elder sat on a thick rolled up hide flanked by two women, one looking his equal in age with a wrinkled face and snow white hair, the other plump and middle-aged. As far as Huns went, they didn't seem too threatening. Walking up to them, she cleared her throat. Clear and bleary eyes turned on her.

"Excuse me, I was wondering-" she began. A long faced girl hurried in front of her and bowed her head, offering her a steaming bowl.

"Queen Hachin, we would be honored if you joined us," the elder said. The older woman got up from her spot and disappeared as the girl directed her to the open spot. Pensively, she sat down, holding the bowl.

"What would you like to drink, Highness?" the elder asked.

"Just water, please," Mulan answered, watching everyone watch her. The water came quick enough; she ate quickly, the attention more than the hunger to blame for that. Soon enough she put the empty bowl down and excused herself.

'I guess they really think I'm a queen now,' Mulan thought, stunned, hearing conversation return to the gathering as she left.

**XXX**

Bataar tossed the fancy boots aside as he grabbed his preferred pair. He sat in his own tent, on the floor across from the door before the stove. He had changed quickly, the cast offs the only disorder in the Ger. The Shan-Yu smiled as he pulled the first boot on, putting his act of compliance before the Circle behind him.

Then Old Moon burst in.

The door slammed into the woodwork with a clack, the old man glaring at him with one his one good eye. He didn't say anything as he turned to close the door; Bataar raised an eyebrow at the silence and began to pull on the remaining boot.

Pressing his lips together, the shaman hobbled around the stove to face the Hun ruler.

"You seem upset," Bataar commented.

"I want to know your motives. You are taking quite a risk, and I would hate to think it's just so you can defy me and the Circle," Old Moon told him sternly.

"The Circle… this is _your_ design; they danced to your tune and half of them are too stupid to realize it," Bataar answered.

"Not everyone resents being led when they can't find a tract they like. You could have easily taken control of the situation if you had acted rather than dug in your heels like an old camel. And my influence is not the question here.

"That girl is a virgin; if word gets out, your potency will be questioned. That has brought down more than one Shan-Yu, as you well know," Old Moon warned him.

"I knew you would be spying. For a holy man you don't hold much sacred," Bataar grinned. His hand lashed out, catching the striking staff on its back. Two wolf eyes meet a mismatched pair of white and dark brown.

"Your answer, Bataar. The ancestors have blessed this union and its fruit. So why?" Old Moon pressed.

"If you could hear as well as see, you know the answer. I will not take a woman against her will; that is the reason, nothing more, nothing less," the Shan-Yu answered evenly. The staff was pulled back and he shook the sting out of his hand while the shaman took a step back.

"I see. So the man who would massacre entire villages, without quarter or captive, razes provinces, and with every intent of doing so to all of China… draws a personal line at rape.

"…

"You may not be a lost cause yet. But tread with care – your destiny is trackless having survived the death I foresaw. A monster was destined to perish in fire, but the sun could just as easily burn you still, as bring a man from the beast," Old Moon said, turning his back.

"…That's new. You might have mentioned such danger before I married her," Bataar frowned as the shaman walked away.

"Wasn't seeing it then. The future is not a horizon of land. It's the sky, with moving heavens and clouds. Patterns can be wiped away, misread, or hidden until it's too late. But she is the key to you attaining your desire. Lose her and you will find discontent to the end of your days.

"But if you fear her that much?" Old Moon left the question hanging.

"I do not fear her," Bataar answered firmly.

"Good. Now come along, I have quite the catch to show off," Old Moon smiled as he opened the door.

**XXX**

"…What happened to my tent?" Mulan asked. She was standing on the patch of dying grass that marked the last resting place of her home away from home. Of the meager structure itself there was no sign.

"Wait a minute, have I been robbed?!" Mulan realized.

"Hachin, there you are!" someone scolded her from behind. Mulan jumped a bit, turning to see an impeccable Choeten frowning at her slightly.

"Choeten, I've been robbed!" Mulan exclaimed.

"What?" Choten frowned.

"My tent's gone, and what little stuff I had!" Mulan continued to shout.

"I had your tent taken down Hachin," Choeten sighed, rubbing her temple with one finger.

"…Why?" Mulan managed after a stunned moment.

"You're married," Choten answered.

"Yes?" Mulan responded.

"You will be sharing your husband's tent from now on. Now, it's time you saw what you have to deal with," Choeten explained. Taking the newlywed by the hand, Choeten pulled her the short distance to the Shan-Yu's tent and pulled her inside.

"This is it?" Mulan asked a bit surprised. Other than a lot of the stuff being jammed to the left, it seemed… normal. No skulls in sight, or even an excessive amount of displayed armaments.

"I know, it's never a good sign when a man is this tidy. Tidy men have a way of forgetting how much they need a good woman in order to survive. I have already taken the liberty of moving all his stuff from your side of the Ger.

"I had the more relevant gifts you received put over here, so you could get started moving in," Choeten said, gesturing to trunks and a rolled up rug on the less cluttered side.

"You moved his stuff?" Mulan asked, stunned.

"Of course – he's not a bachelor anymore. Either he gets a tent with separate rooms, or you get half of the living space for your own use," Choeten continued. She gave Mulan a wink; with all that was happening so fast, Mulan decided she did not like the wink.

"Um, thank you. Where are my clothes?" Mulan asked. Choeten smiled, opening a small trunk and pulling out a Hun dress, predominantly very light gray but with red and gold patterns on it.

"That's not mine," Mulan pointed out.

"No, it was bought by me for you so you could have something other than nearly man rags and dresses too fancy to work in. We can't have the Shan-Yu's first wife running around like some Spear Wife, now can we?

"As first wife, you have more duties than just breaking in the man. You'll be expected to oversee and maintain his herds and other property in his absence, not to mention keep an ear on gossip for anything useful to him. And of course, keeping his tent in good order," Choten ticked her points off as Mulan ducked behind the pile of gifts to change. She never thought she would miss the secondhand Hun clothes. At least it felt better on her skin.

It felt odd to not have her legs in pants now, she realized.

"But first, since the Summit will start breaking up soon, we need to determine if any further gestures of gratitude are warranted to gift givers before my wedding. I mean before the givers all leave!

"Now I have a list-" Choeten began reaching into a wide sleeve to pull out a thick scroll. Before she could finish speaking, much less open the scroll, someone burst in.

"Maral, Choeten! You gotta see!" Qorchi practically screamed as he skidded in, nearly hitting the stove.

"Boy! Do no burst in on women like a raider!" Choeten yelled at him.

"But-"

"No buts; go back outside and come in like a proper Hun. A proper Hun who is not on the warpath at the moment and is visiting his ruler's new wife," Choeten amended.

"But-"

"Do you want me to wake your mother up from that goat pen she's passed out in? And for the first thing she takes her post-feast anger out on to be her rude little boy?" Choeten asked sweetly.

Qorchi was out the door like a shot. Mulan couldn't tell of he closed the door behind him or if it blew shut. He knocked on the door, and Choeten gave Mulan a meaningful look.

"Come in?" Mulan asked uncertainly. Qorchi opened the door and jumped in.

"_OldMoonhasadragonyougottasee!_" he yelled. Then ran off, cheering one word over and over again.

"Dragon?" both women said.

"Mushu!" Mulan practically screamed. She ran off after the boy, the dress flapping around her as she tore through the camp.

"Wait, what about the list?!

"…Sigh. I suppose as usual I will have to take charge and ensure things get done. She is certainly lucky to have me as her husband's friend's wife," Choeten sighed, opening her list up.

**XXX**

'Why didn't I realize something was wrong?' Mulan screamed in her head.

'Of course Mushu wouldn't leave. I never expected him to. The only way he wouldn't pop up would be if he couldn't,' she continued her rant, dashing after Qorchi into a crowd. The Huns were talking among themselves as they jostled for position; she ignored them as she forced her way through the press.

'The shaman, everyone kept saying he was a powerful spirit man. Of course he would be a threat to Mushu,' Mulan thought, remembering the fact that Old Moon had raised the man who had tried to burn China to the ground.

**XXX**

The crowd pressed around Old Moon's tent, anxious for a glimpse at what lurked in the iron cage the shaman was holding up for all to see.

"Small," Bataar said. His tone and expression made it clear how little he was impressed, leaning back and up from the iron cage as a modest flame spouted between the bars.

"Why don't you let me out and we'll see who's little, horse breath!" it yelled at him, shaking a ridiculous tiny fist through the bars. The dragon seemed as much of a loudmouth as it was brightly colored. It made the Persian merchants look modest.

He heard the crowd "oh" and "ah" at the display of fire; fortunately, his inner circle and Coyot were more restrained. Though he wondered where Ulaan had gotten off to. For that matter, Batu and Gaitan seemed anxious, especially Batu who kept looking up at the sun.

"Impressive, Old Moon – dragon's a dragon, even if it's small," Coyot remarked, leaning in for his own look. A wad of dirt bounced off his brow; the King of the Right struck the dragon's snout through the bars with a flick.

"What do we do with it?" Batu asked.

"Why is a dragon here? They are the patron spirits most favored by the Han," Lasuluun reminded them.

"Can we eat it?" Shirchin asked. Everyone gave him a look, and the dragon's jaw dropped.

"What? Just asking," the helmed warrior shrugged.

"Actually, I hear drinking a dragon's blood let's you understand and speak with animals," Coyot said, rubbing his chin.

"Who wants that? I don't want to spend all my time on a horse listening to it complain about its back and hooves," Batu huffed.

"They say eating a dragon's heart makes you invincible," Gaitan put out.

"…" They all looked at the dragon with renewed interest. The reptile gulped.

"I might have heard the same thing," Old Moon admitted, "But also that dragon scales mixed with melted steel make an indestructible alloy that never loses its edge."

"I have no need for his tiny heart. If you can find it, one of you can have it. Skin the beast and prepare his scales; it's time I had a proper new sword," Shan-Yu ordered, turning away from the group.

"Wait!" a woman screamed. The crowd tried to part only to be pushed aside as his new wife stumbled panting into the clearing before the shaman's tent.

"Nice dress," he sneered, crossing his arms.

"Don't hurt him," she panted.

"I knew it! You called this spirit to make mischief among us," Lasuluun accused. His accusing finger was knocked aside by Old Moon's stick. The shaman gave the sour warrior a glare before turning his attention to the newlyweds glaring at each other.

"Catch," the shaman said, tossing the cage without turning. The dragon screamed as his prison flipped through the air to be caught by Shirchin. The warrior peered into the cage in surprise, pulling back as the dragon breathed a flame at him.

"Royals inside. Not you, King," Old Moon barked, withdrawing towards his tent. Bataar frowned at the order, but grabbed his wife's wrist and dragged her along, ignoring her protest.

**XXX**

Mulan did no like leaving Mushu with men who had been discussing eating him, but punching her so called husband in front of a powerful shaman and a Hun mob… even anger didn't make that seem like good idea.

Pushed inside, the Shan-Yu's bulk forced her further into the smelly tent. He closed the door behind him and walked to stand before the empty stove stone, the shaman settling down on the other side of it.

"It's bigger than I remember, but just as creepy," Mulan thought aloud.

"That's just how things are with him," Bataar told her, glancing in her direction.

"For newlyweds, you already seem bent on bickering like an old couple. Should I be pleased or despairing?

"Don't answer that, it's not important.

"What is important, is that we seem to have captured your former guardian spirit," Old Moon said, directing the last words to the only woman present.

"…Yes. Kill him and I'll kill you," Mulan told him firmly.

"Haha, ah yes, true loyalty. But it need not come to that. In fact, you can guarantee that dragon's safety quite easily," Old Moon chuckled. Bataar frowned, looking back and forth between the scowling woman and grinning elder.

"My sword-"

"Forget it, I like this better; and no shaman would aid you against my wishes. And just try forging dragon scales without the proper magic.

"Oh, and eating the heart lets you breathe fire, no invincibility. Though given the size it may be more of a flammable belch?" Old Moon speculated.

"What are you up to?" Bataar demanded.

"Yeah," Mulan chimed in. The shaman grinned.

"Threats might buy your compliance for now, but if you truly feared your own death you would never have begun the journey that has brought you here. No, you are here, because you place others above yourself.

"I will spare your fallen guardian. More than that, I will give him rank and position, a new addition to the guardian spirits of the royal line. Through your old ties will lead into new ones for him," Old Moon explained.

"Hold on now – what use is a guardian spirit so incompetent that his charge ends up where she has?" Bataar interrupted. Mulan took a step toward the Hun ruler, ready to say something, when Old Moon whacked her in the face with his stick over the stone.

"She is still alive, and is now your queen. Failure and success are often matters of perspective. And this will give you power over her, through your power over your family's guardians," Old Moon pointed out. Bataar looked at Mulan, who was red in the face, and smiled.

"You could run, but he couldn't, and you're not the type to leave someone behind, are you? And you could reveal certain secrets not caring what I did to you, but you wouldn't knowing this spirit of yours would share in the punishment.

"Very well, if nothing else, the dragon will serve as a hostage," Bataar acceded.

"You are wise at times despite yourself," Old Moon said, bowing to the departing ruler. The door shut behind him, and Mulan turned on the shaman.

"You are on his side after all," Mulan accused.

"Never really said I wasn't. But I'm also on your side," he told her.

"Release him. I will do as you say, but don't curse my friend," she pleaded now.

"He will be released tonight, after I bind him to your new family. And if you try to free him, that cage can only be opened by a shaman of the Huns, without causing its occupants great harm," Old Moon told her solemnly.

"You act silly so people underestimate you, right?" Mulan said, glaring at the old man.

"Oh no, I am a very silly man. I do so hate acting all sober and aware, makes me feel old. Kusmiss?" he shrugged, offering her his skin. She turned her back on him and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Well, it looks like that bridge is battered for now. We'll have to make sure this doesn't work in Unegan's favor," Old Moon said as two shamans materialized out of the fumes.

"The future is clouded by darkness. We glimpse light, but also… horror," one of the two told him.

"I know. Not since the Battle of Mists has the future been so uncertain. The girl is the key; without her, the dark will come for the Huns.

"Go, make the preparations," Old Moon commanded.

"Elder, you know this spell will not be binding so long as the marriage remains unconsummated," the other shaman reminded him.

"Of course, but they don't need to know that," Old Moon grinned, taking a sip of his kusmiss.

**XXX**

This time, the crowd did part before Mulan; must have been something in her expression, she thought. They were behind her soon enough, not that she really noticed.

"Grrr," she growled. She wanted to hit something, and a fence pole nearby caught her eye.

"Ha!" she cried, kicking the thin rod of wood.

'Perfect, even Shang would approve,' she thought as the pole snapped on impact.

"Well, someone's in a mood. But then, I just punched a goat, so who am I to talk?" Oyunbileg spoke. Too angry to be very surprised, Mulan noticed the mud-splattered woman was leaning back against the fence. It turned out they were in the livestock area of the Ger, and whatever color the spear wife's dress had been it was now brown. She noticed the slaves tending the animals and their Hun overseers were making a point of not looking.

"So, have a wild night?" Oyunbileg asked.

"…"

"Ah, that's good, never brag too much or people won't believe, and don't tell the truth either. It's boring. Ancestors, where is that husband of mine with my medicine?!" the one eyed warrior griped, grabbing her head.

"You know, he wasn't my first pick either. Sure, he didn't burn my village down like Bataar did with you. But I had a man lined up, could have told Bataar where to put his politics. Might have even got away with it.

"But no, I lost an eye and thought I was losing helmet head, so I went with the offer. Worried no one would want a disfigured woman without politics.

"And then the jerk had to survive anyway! Make me look like an idiot…" the spear wife groused. The bitterness was sobering; Mulan didn't realize her anger had slipped off until Ulaan walked up to them and knelt, offering his wife a steaming cup. She snatched it from his hands, pinched her nose, and gulped it down.

"You know, I hate weddings," she admitted before her head tilted back. When she started snoring, Ulaan sighed and put an arm around her back, getting Oyunbileg to her feet. He glanced at Mulan.

"Sorry about that. She gets a bit too honest when too hungover," he told her before dragging the tall woman off.

'Not quite the picture she was painting before,' Mulan thought. She was glad Qorchi wasn't here; probably still trying to get glimpses of Mushu.

**XXX**

Bataar stood in the doorway of his tent, pondering how surprise was becoming a far too recurring event in his life of late.

He could only think of three people bold enough to move his personal belongings in his personal space. The Han woman had not been in a position to, and Old Moon was accounted for. Which left…

"Choeten, finally, someone I am allowed to punish," he whispered.

**XXX**

"So, how is she," Mulan asked Ulaan. Closing his tent up carefully, the archer gave her a backward glance. She noticed he had changed into fresh, daily clothes since last night.

"There is nothing wrong with her. She'll act like nothing happened when she gets her wind back," he answered shortly.

"She was involved with Shirchin, then?" Mulan asked. He had been walking past her; that stopped him.

"I had hoped you were a strange enough of a woman to not gossip.

"Yes, and I imagine she would be in his bed now if your avalanche had killed me," he answered flatly.

"Sorry," Mulan apologized. And wondered what exactly she was apologizing for.

"I know you don't regret trying to kill us, so I will assume you mean my marriage.

"There is no problem. I offered her a choice; she made it and has honored it. We perform the roles we require of each other – that is all that is needed. I expect you to likewise honor the choices you have made with my Shan-Yu," he continued. Mulan scowled at his nonexistent tone.

"You act like I had a choice," she snapped.

"You did – you could have always chosen to die. You chose to live first and the consequences followed one after another. My wife could have held out for the man she desired; she chose to not have faith and take the safer trail.

"No choice, the creed of cowards," he spat. He didn't even sound angry, just irritated, like he was talking with a stubborn child.

'How old is he again?' Mulan wondered.

"The summit will begin breaking up soon; my Shan-Yu will have need of me.

"Some friendly advice – the gossipers will no doubt descend on you soon. Would have already if not for the dragon. If you get to your tent first, you won't have to answer any questions on the bedding today," the archer gave a cold grin.

Bedding, gossipers… pulling up the dress unnecessarily, she ran towards the Shan-Yu's distant tent.

"Ah, the beginnings of married life," Ulaan remarked.

**XXX**

Bataar looked at the large tent he had been directed to in his search. Not a Ger; apparently she had rented it from that Persian merchant Gaitan drank with sometimes. Speak of the man… the fat colorful loudmouth had noticed his arrival and waddled over from the entrance.

"Is Choeten here?" Bataar demanded. He had decided he would punish her with cleaning out the goat pens. Not a harsh punishment perhaps, but the exacting woman would agonize over details and cleanliness, drawing her own suffering out. She needed to be reminded that her attitude and relationships did not grant her free license.

The Persian bowed to him deeply before speaking.

"Great Shan-Yu, this humble merchant is honored!" he began, before Bataar stepped around him.

"Answer the question or I will just go in," he said.

"Well yes, but, Your Majesty…" the Persian called after him. He trailed off as Bataar pulled the tent wide and yelled the woman's name angrily. Chanting that had come from within went silent, and the Hun warlord stood still framed in the entryway. He let the flap fall back into place and turned around, stalking over to the gulping Persian.

"She and Batu… are getting married in there?" he said.

"Yes?" Caspar answered. Closing his eyes, Bataar rubbed his temples.

"Why?" Bataar pressed.

"She feared there was no way her wedding would not be compared unfavorably to your own. And the only way to avoid such comparison was to make it as swift and secret as possible. Her reasoning, not mine, Your Majesty," Caspar explained.

Ulaan walked up to the two, giving a nod in greeting.

"Did you know Batu was getting married today?" Bataar asked.

"When?" Ulaan asked.

"…Never mind, I want to deal with the Circle. They at least make sense while they are annoying, come," the wolf eyed man commanded.

"Yes, my Shan-Yu," Ulaan agreed, following after his ruler, towards the Hill.

**XXX**

Bataar was pleased to see the day end. He found it even worse than yesterday; at least ceremony had allowed him to measure how much more he had to endure. But the sun had set and he could claim his day of work at an end as the chiefs and kings made their plans and received his obligatory thanks for their presents.

And having to send a gift to Batu for the surprise wedding. With Gaitan claiming a need to celebrate his brother's marriage, that surprise put him down two mostly reliable officers at the moment. Lasluun also seemed put out, more so than usual.

'Was he expecting me to toss her out of the tent with a broken nose and unable to walk for all I took?' Bataar wondered. The sullen swordsman was a loyal follower, and never one to shirk his duty; his personal quirks were quite forgivable in light of that. Still…

He knew when he reached his own tribe by the lack of further congratulations; these people knew him well enough to know when he did not want any company, pleasant or otherwise.

But reaching his tent and seeing it already well lit, he realized there was company regardless.

"First day of married life," he snorted, pulling the door open and entering his Ger.

The woman was there, on her side of the tent sitting on a Persian rug in that dress from earlier. He stopped; he could have sworn something had leapt from her shoulder. Another guardian, or a trick of the light?

"Welcome home, husband," she greeted him irreverently. She set down a familiar piece of brass on a pile of jewelry; she seemed to have been organizing the gifts, having unpacked several of them.

Bataar grinned, deliberately walking through her side, showing his back to her before settling into the respected seat across from the door. That, at least, was unchanged; Choeten had _some_ sanity, after all.

"Taking account of your loot?" he asked mockingly.

"I suppose you're about to say that as my husband it all belongs to you regardless of which of us it was intended for," his wife said.

"I would love to, but it would be stealing to take anything specifically for you. Hardly a crime for a Shan-Yu to steal from a wife with no family to object. But there is nothing to be gained by stepping on a bug," he admitted.

She ignored him, pulling out the Chinese dress from a trunk. The sight of his brother's gift left a foul taste in his mouth. Bad enough to share his tent with a Han woman, their ridiculous fashion was pushing it.

"Did you hide here for the rest of the day? How disappointing – enough courage to bring a mountain down on yourself, but you quake before nosey women," he chuckled. Folding up the dress, she placed it by some bolts of cloth, and gave him a look.

"They call me a queen," she said. He frowned at the tone and question, lowering his chin to rest on laced hands.

"As my only wife you hold that title by default," he admitted.

"First, I was your prisoner. Then your property. Not much changed between those two," she reminded him.

"Yes, and this is just another form of bondage. Do not mistake my line regarding your maidenhead as extending in any other direction. You have a gilded cage, like a Persian's pet bright bird, but it is a cage. The title means as much as I decide it means, no more," he told her.

"We seem to keep walking over the same ground," she practically moaned.

"Don't blame me; you're the one who needs to have the lesson impressed upon her," he reminded her with a leering grin.

"Don't worry, I care about someone other than myself. And I guess for being a good person I'm going to have to dance to your tune," the girl seethed.

"Good, then we've had this conversation for the last time.

"Extinguish the fire, I want this day done now. I have to deal with my brother tomorrow, after all," he told her. Getting up, he made his way to his fur bedding, Mulan noting that there was no bedding on her side.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" she demanded.

"Well, I suppose if mice can make a bed of rags, you should be up to the challenge," he laughed.

…

"Shan-Yu!"

"What, woman?" he demanded from his bed.

"The name the shaman gave me. Hachin. What does it mean?" she asked.

"Strange," he said.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question!" she shouted, threatening to throw an ugly vase at him.

"No, Hachin _means_ strange," he told her. Rolling away, he heard her put the vase down with a muffled thud.

"Stupid shaman," she whispered.

"Yes, and he only gets worse," Bataar told her, smiling.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

_And we are back, and going to stay for quite awhile. I have set a goal to finish one of my epic stories before years end, and this is the one I have picked. So with one exception allowed for in, case I need I break from this story, it will be back to back Hachin updates. The previous chapter will probably be the exception lengthwise with the reaming chapters likely coming in under 10k._

_Hopefully the quicker pace of updates will not translate into reduced quality._

_This chapter had an awkward feel to it, but I think that its with Bataar and Mulan here. As the title says they have entered unfamiliar territory as they are finally forced to interact with one another and try to find some kind of balance. And mushu and Old Moon lurking bout ready to complicate things with good intentions. Capturing this state of transition is proving challenging for a writer whose biggest strength has long been world building._

_Hopefully you find the results interesting._

_See you soon, until then long days and pleasant nights._


	10. Looking Back & Riding Forth

_Disclaimer: I do not own Mulan._

_Betaed by: Zim'sMostLoyalServant_

**AN1: **What's this, a new chapter of Hachin, is this possible?! Actually, it isn't possible; I posted some old stuff from my own work as a joke. **Kidding**, kidding, kidding, enjoy the new chapter.

"The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon." Hoid the King's Wit, _The Way of Kings_ by Brandon Sanderson.

* * *

**Looking Back and Riding Forth**

Predawn light creeped over the steppes, revealing a ghostly assemblage of spirits, Modu's spirit standing over the assembly of horses and hawks. The sounds of Mushu's pained cries could be heard over the chanting from the spirits. Nodding his head, Modu raised a transparent hand to his brow, checking the horizon.

Holding out his hand, a striker formed in it from the morning mist, a nao bell forming next to him. With a swing, he struck the bell, sending a deep note across the plains. The guardian spirits below ceased their revels, looking up at the ancient ancestor.

"Tis done. The green stallion is painted blue!" he declared. Without another word, the ancestor dissolved back into smoke on the wind; with a cheer, the guardians followed him in similar fashion.

Which left Mushu in the dispersing smoke riding a very hairy runaway pony with a bell on its neck, while wearing a small dress and blindfolded. With a buck, the pony sent Mushu flying; with a cry equal parts panic and irritation, the dragon hit the turf and rolled out on the grass.

Spitting up grass, Mushu got to his feet, tearing the blindfold off. He shook his fist after the pony, heading back towards the encampments.

"Don't let me catch you around here again. Just try pulling that stint without your pals, bell boy!" he called after the retreating animal.

"Heh, well that's one thing they got in common north and south of the wall. Hazing! There oughta be a law," Mushu grumbled, ripping the pink dress off.

"Still, least it wasn't as bad as the Fa Guardian hazing… stupid monkey. Never did get him back for the rice pudding bit," Mushu griped as he began to scurry back to the Summit. High above, Suren rode the wind, watching the dragon with interest.

**XXX**

Oyunbileg chewed a piece of grass as she leaned forward against the corral fence, her son seated atop it to the left of her. Smiling, she silently mouthed a countdown as a white horse ran past them, reaching zero as a sweaty woman pursuing it stopped in front of them.

"Stupid nag!" Hachin shouted, throwing down the saddle she had been carrying into the dead grass. After her initial failures earlier in the morning, the Shan-Yu's wife had asked for more practical clothes to deal with the horse. Oyunbileg was only too happy to provide her with what was practically a spear wife's uniform.

'Maybe I can get her wrapped up before Choeten comes up for air?' the one eyed woman thought with a smirk.

"You sure you don't want help?" she asked the newly minted royal.

"No! This is my stupid horse and I will get it under control," she panted. The mare trotted by her, showing its teeth and making a sound suspiciously like laughter. Taking up the saddle, the girl took off after the horse with a war cry.

"That's not going to work," Qorchi said.

"Yep," his mother agreed.

"Is she crazy?" Qorchi whispered.

"No, just her first time dealing with a horse that takes exception to being ridden," Oyunbileg said, watching the game of tag taking place in the corral.

"The Shan-Yu is her husband now, he's great with wild horses! She should ask him for help," Qorchi decided, clapping his hands together in excitement.

"Good idea, don't suggest it to her," Oyunbileg told him, ruffling his hair.

"Does she want to race again?" Qorchi asked. Oyunbileg thought about how to answer, before a new voice cut her off.

"No, it's about pride," Queen Altan said. She walked up to them in sensible finery, her daughter from the other day running ahead to climb the fence. She took a seat next to Qorchi, giving him a cursory glance before turning her attention to the battle of wills playing out inside. Qorchi himself looked at the strange woman as she stopped before the fence.

"Slaves are not permitted to ride horses among the Huns. She had to walk here, as is a slave's lot. If Hachin rides out of this summit, that will demonstrate in a way nearly equal to the wedding that her status has risen above mere property. Of course, she could ride in a Ger wagon, or just buy a tamer horse with some of the wealth she received in her wedding," Altan explained. Oyunbileg looked away from the spectacle to meet the blue-eyed woman's look.

"No, another horse is not her wedding gift. Bataar gave her a challenge; to not take it up would be an insult to her pride," the spear wife said.

"Spoken like a true spear wife. Pride is for those who posses power already or those who lack ambition; the road to acquiring power requires a willingness to endure indignity," Altan chuckled.

"She did it!" the kids shouted. The women turned their attention to the Han girl, who sure enough was sitting mounted atop the horse, both panting.

"Whew, I think I'll name you Min. It seems to fit," the victor said, slumping in the saddle. The mare bucked, throwing the girl off to land on the ground, and cantered away.

"She still has quite a way to go," Altan remarked.

"But you never expected her to get that far so quick either, did you?" Oyunbileg grinned.

**XXX**

"Would you care to repeat that?" Bataar demanded. His half-brother smiled from his spot in the Circle of Chieftains.

They had all gathered one last time before the summit officially broke up. Some would leave immediately. Yomo in particular seemed anxious, no doubt wanting to report to his brother and distant tribesmen what had happened here. Others would linger for some business or other. But it was in everyone's interest to begin the end of the Summit quickly; the steppes and Hun ways did not lend themselves to lingering long in one place, much less in such numbers.

This last meeting should have been a mere formality, reaffirming they would be doing what they said before and receiving the Shan-Yu's approval.

"I said, I have changed my plans," Unegan repeated.

"Decided to go to war with someone?" Yomo asked, interested.

"Hardly, great giant! It has become clear to me during this summit that somehow a degree of hostility has risen between my mighty brother and I. This does not bode well for the Huns, so we as men who share blood must work to calm the horses, as it were.

"His new wife is a new beginning for him, and every husband here can testify to the hardships of their first marriage," Unegan said. He was given a general murmur of agreement, though some like Coyot and Barrago did not join in. Those ones watched the King of the Left as he stood, making a sweeping gesture.

"We have been apart so long we are nearly strangers, my brother and I. But I see now an opportunity so that we can grow close as brothers should; offering my advice and experience on a husband's duties. And in due time, a father's duties.

"Also, my Ger is young; we have many bachelors, who came from your tribes to start with. And despite the recent rash of marriages, the Shan-Yu's Ger has too many widows and fatherless children.

"Let us ride together, so that we and our tribes can be drawn closer together, in a new beginning," Unegan finished with a wide smile. He held his hand out towards his brother, al eyes falling on the wolf eyed ruler.

"…Very well," Bataar smiled back. It did not reach his golden eyes.

**XXX**

Old Moon was grumbling under his breath as he shambled through the Ger. There was plenty of activity on. Not packing in earnest yet. Huns were a people who lived on the move; there was no issue with getting ready to move out. No, it was the Summit – most people always seemed to remember some bit of business social or otherwise that simply could not wait until next time, at the last day.

The shaman would usually enjoy the bedlam, the young people amusing him, and the elderly more so. But his mood was sour at the moment; it showed enough that even in their haste, the Huns gave him a wide berth.

"Unegan," he said, tasting the name.

He had demanded to know what Bataar was thinking, letting the King of the Left join them like this. Safely out of earshot of disloyal ears, he had gotten the answer.

"Better to have him where I can keep an eye on him," the Shan-Yu had told him.

He hated it when he got good answers for things he didn't like.

Never mind the danger of having Unegan close at hand with more swords at his call than Bataar. Bataar would just insult the quality of his brother's men and say they would not raise their blades to true warriors out of fear. Or that Unegan would plot, but lacked the courage to take direct action.

And it all seemed to be true. Unegan was a great warrior, but he had long struck Old Moon as the type of warrior who reveled more in slaughter than in worthy foes. His deeds as a chieftain and now a king seemed to reflect that. And his warriors would likely be a similar cut of opportunists.

But still it felt wrong. The fox prince had a dark air about him these days, a chill in his wake. Old Moon had spent his long life among other things defending his people from the mischief of dark spirits, and he could find no evidence of illicit sorcery connected to the King. And if he raised these suspicious with anyone without proof, it would seem to just be politics.

He had reached the corrals; the horses were restless, he saw. Reaching into a pouch, he pulled out an apple and tossed it to a pretty grey filly. The horse failed to catch it, the fruit hitting her nose. Shaking her head about, she then lowered it, questing with her nose for the treat.

The sight and smell of the animals brought back memories he had almost forgotten. Ah, he had indeed once been young!

Another old sound caught his attention – cursing in the Han tongue. A short walk brought him into a corral taken up by only one rider and her horse. In time to see Queen Hachin be thrown from her mount. She knew how to land well, at least.

The horse cantered off; at least it didn't seem to want to harm the girl. His arrival must not have been too stealthy, as the girl glared at him. He smiled back at her, hobbling to the fence.

"Good to see you in something less feminine. You may wear the lady look well, but this brings out your spirit, eh?" he asked. Pulling herself up, she pressed her lips together, no answer given. Rater than pursue the horse, she pulled herself up onto the fence and took a seat, watching the animal.

"Have you given her a name?" Old Moon asked.

"Min," she answered sharply.

"'Quick'; good choice, if not very original," Old Moon speculated, rubbing his chin.

"Did you come here to insult my naming skills?" she demanded.

"I didn't come here expecting to find you at all. Young people, think it's all about them," Old Moon huffed. He lowered himself to sit with his back resting against a fence post. He heard her shift out of his sight, the wood creaking.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Staring at your horse won't reveal the answer. Anymore than trying the same thing over and over again will yield a different outcome. Practice might yield results, but sometimes stepping back lets you find another, better way," the shaman advised. He could practically sense her brighten at the advice. She had experience with such. Good, but the young often had to be reminded of the journey, focusing too much on where they had ended up.

"Come down, share some kusmiss with an elder," he commanded.

"If I am a queen…?" she asked.

"A shaman still commands respect. Why do you think Bataar and that circle of young stallions haven't knocked my skull in yet? Tradition!" Old Moon ranted. He wasn't sure if the sound she made was a snicker or a sigh. He called that progress, and declared it good.

She got down from the fence and moved to stand over him. Getting smaller and bent was the worst part about being old, he had long since decided. Except for the other things higher on the list of course.

Fortunately, she sat down and he could avoid thinking about a young girl being taller than him.

"Unegan will be accompanying us on the trails after the Summit," he told her. She perked up at that, not a good sign.

"You should watch out for him," he told her.

"I'm watching out for all of you," she answered.

"Heh, not bad girl. But your armor is cracking when it comes to hating Huns," he reminded her.

"Maybe, but then I remember what your people did," she shot back.

"…There is a reason for everything that men, and women, do. Both as people, and as entire nations. They may not be good reasons, but this tale has thread you can follow back to the beginning. And you are part of that story now yourself," Old Moon told her.

"…Not by choice," she answered. He offered her his skin of kusmiss, getting only a shaken head in response he uncorked it and took a nip.

"Has anyone told you his story? Bataar's?" Old Moon asked.

"I've heard things," she admitted.

"Ah, but as shaman it is my place to pass down the legends, ancient and new. And you should know the story of your new husband, and your new people," he mused.

Hachin's eyes flashed and for a moment he was sure she would strike him. She didn't, but the glare didn't fade either.

"They are _not_ my people. My people do not slaughter innocents," she told him. Even with one eye his glare put hers to shame; she actually flinched, sitting back down properly.

"And empires just happen, eh? I see I must provide the proper setting for the tale," Old Moon sighed.

"And why would I believe anything you have to say? Shan-Yu is practically your ward," she demanded.

"I can only make you listen, believing or learning is up to you. But it's easier to oppose something you understand, eh?" he asked. She did not object, so Old Moon clasped his hands, cracked his knuckles and began to weave the tale.

"Long ago, before the first stone of the Wall was laid, before the Hill united the Huns, and before the first Emperor, the world was a different place…

**XXX**

"In the days long past, when the world was young, there was no Empire and the Huns did not ride the Steppes. The people now called the Han lived in many kingdoms, each rising and falling in their turn. We dwelled in a land called Mokar, now lost. Though the way of the horse was with us even then, we were not truly the people of the horse, dwelling in a good land as we were.

"We wandered still in bands in those days, men setting out from Mokar amongst those who bent their backs to fields not their own and bent their knees to the unworthy. We fought in their wars for gold, or raided them for our own banners. And made war amongst our own tribes.

"Such was the world.

"But then there came a king, a great and powerful king. Though his kingdom was strong, his ambition would humble the mountains. A great warrior and ruler, he set out to extend his rule to all he could grasp, plunging the world into years of war.

"The Huns fought for him or against him, depending on who was paying or which tribe they belonged to. Indeed, Hun killed Hun many times in those years. And in the end, when the final sword was sheathed, the young King had subdued the other six kingdoms of his people, and anointed himself Emperor under the Heavens, taking the dragon as his crest.

"Yet he needed to unite his people in spirit, to soothe the wounds of his conquests. And so his eyes turned to Mokar, a land to conquer and a foe hated by all in his new empire. Former enemy or former ally, he sent his armies forth without mercy or remorse.

"The Huns fought the invaders, and victories were won; but the world had changed and we hadn't. This was not the army of one king among many. These were the armies of a man who stood unopposed over a vast nation that revered and feared his might. We fought as tribes apart, dozens of different wars, each chieftain a king. Like spread fingers meeting the bound fist of the Chinese, we broke.

"For each warrior we struck down, it seemed two stepped forward in his place. What could not be taken by horse was abandoned, for the march of the Emperor's armies broke all that stood in their path. And so, piece-by-piece, Mokar was lost. We were driven north, into the Steppes, and that the Emperor saw as punishment enough.

"In time he began to build the Wall that would one day be finished by the Emperor who now lives. Some say it was to forever mark the border of his domain; such was his vanity. Others that he was haunted by a vision the Huns would return and tear down all he had built. Others say it was madness, an excuse to work to death all that raised a hand or word against him.

"Though the Emperor fell at the hands of his own abused people, they raised his destroyer in his place. Though that Emperor halted the Wall, time and again Emperors would return to it, a reminder of what was and still is.

"On the Steppes, Modu rose to unite the Huns, founding the Confederation at the Hill of Eight Bears to stand against the might of the Empire. But though Modu's bloodline ran true, the Shan-Yus have never claimed to be gods, and pettiness and pride at times drove our people apart.

"It came to pass that the Huns divided between a Shan-Yu in the North and one in South. One opposing the other, one nearly always a vassal to the Emperor. Divided and weak, we did more harm to ourselves than our foes.

"It was Tianlinn, Shan-Yu of the Northern Huns, that ended those dreadful days. He spent his lifetime uniting the two through force of arms, marriage, and the charm of a great man. And succeeded in laying low those who valued the Emperors coin more than the pride of the Huns.

"It was on a hunt to celebrate the Confederation being made whole again that he meet the mother of the one who would succeed him. She appeared on the steppes, alone with no mount, and barefoot. A woman of great beauty, a woman with the eyes of a wolf. She presented herself as Zaya, and she had come to be his final wife and bare him a son.

"Her beauty and the advice of his shaman led him to take her into his bed and confidence. Beautiful and possessing a string spirit, all men envied him for having her. In time she bore him a son, his last-born child. She named her son Bataar, hero.

"Though Tianlinn had grown old in his conquests, his great ambition had ever been to lay low China itself. Though he feared his sun was setting, he had a son in ascendance, Bharbo. Mightiest of Tianlinn's sons, and heir to the mantle, he stood tall and true, strong as a stallion, with a laugh like thunder, and thick hair like spun night sky.

"Bharbo was seen as the perfect prince, beloved and envied by all men, and lusted for by all women; a father could not have asked for more. And yet for all his glory, Bharbo was drawn to a brother young enough to be a son, one so far down the royal line as to inconsequential. Whose mother was enemy to his own.

"Yet it came to pass that the greatest brother did more to raise up the least of the brothers than the aging father.

"But the drums of war sounded anew. Tianlinn judged the Huns ready to take revenge for generations of meddling and ancient wrongs done. Lead by the Shan-Yu and Bharbo, the Huns rode south in a great host such as the world had never seen.

"Bharbo vowed to decimate the Han. That he would take the Emperor himself, and force the false god to kneel and acknowledge the power of the Huns.

"And it may have come to pass, had the Shan-Yu and Prince not entered a single fortress on the ride to the Imperial City.

"They rode in assuming the battle won, but perched on a ladder between the wall and courtyard, a single Han swordsman held his attackers at bay. Tianlinn would have had the archers shoot the man down and be done with it. But Bharbo was a bold and brave man, and saw in the Han's unbending spirit a man too great to die such a death.

"He challenged the Han to come down and face him alone. If the Han drew first blood he would be allowed to leave alive and well. And Bharbo would give him a warrior's death if he defeated the Han.

"And there was the seed of so much tragedy. For though all agree both men were skilled, and Bharbo was fresh while the Han warrior was exhausted…

"Perhaps the Prince underestimated his foe. Or perhaps he was merely young and overvalued his own skill. Whatever the case, when blood was spilled on that courtyard, it was Hun blood. Laughing like a storm, Bharbo sent the Han on, hoping they would meet again to finish the duel on the field of battle. He wiped away the blood from the cut, not knowing his doom had come.

"For on the road to the Imperial City, the wound that had been dismissed as nothing grew foul. Shamans may not ride the warpath, but warriors know the ways of wounds. But their ways were for naught, and one day when the sun stood at its peak, Bhrabo fell from his horse and lay feverish and deaf to the world.

"The Hun way has long been clear. In war, when a man can no longer ride, he will die by the blade so as to not drag down his comrades. Even then, had this been done, all may have yet been well.

"But Tianlinn refused to release his great heir. By his order, the host halted, lingering for days in the vain hope that some medicine could call Bharbo off the tract to the land of the dead. And each day passing, Tianlinn shamed Bharbo with his weakness, and himself most of all.

"In the end it was Buriliegi, sole brother of the Shan-Yu, who ended it. Leading Bharbo's horse into the sick tent feigning some mystic cure, the King of the Left opened the mount's throat, splashing Bharbo with its lifeblood. The Prince opened his eyes one last time, and his mount's spirit bore him on from this world.

The host gave Bhrabo's bones to the earth, and once more rode for the capital. But the spirits of the war had shifted. Though Tianlinn and his brother rode at their head, the Prince they loved was dead and disgraced. Men began to question that if Tianlinn was no longer fit for the mantle, who would now lead them?

"And worse yet, the days lost had not been wasted by the Han. The Emperor had gathered as many troops as he could and fortified his capital. Though the Huns ransacked the countryside around the city, the walls stood tall and defiant, Han spears and arrows raining down. They were well provisioned, leaving even their own peasants to starve had they not fallen before Hun steel and shackles.

"It came down to a storm, the steel wind of the Huns against the mountain of the Imperial City, to see who would fall first. Tianlinn led the attack – raging at his son's death, he burned like a man far younger, and gained the walls, clearing the path of his ladder.

"The war and destiny hung in the balance; the Han were terrified of the legendary warrior in their midst striking them down, mocking all the walls they had thrown up before him. The Huns' spirits rekindled and they followed; the city seemed about to fall as Han warriors fled back toward the palace, abandoning their city to protect the Emperor.

"But a man stepped forward, sword drawn to meet the storm. And Tianlinn saw it was that same man whose blade had ended Bharbo's life. Striking down the Huns between him and the swordsman, the Shan-Yu came down on his foe like a spirit of vengeance.

"It was all the Lone Han could do to defend himself. But that he did atop the falling walls, Huns foolishly stopping to witness what was certain to be a legendary battle. But they did not watch alone; the Han warriors saw a single man standing bravely against disaster, and were shamed into courage.

"Tianlinn knocked the blade from his foe's hand, and his foe ducked under his blade and struck a powerful kick to the Shan-Yu's legs. Tianlinn fell, to the ground outside the city, screaming rage and despair for vengeance thwarted. Though he yet lived, those above and within did not know it. The Huns wavered, and the Han surged forth with desperate hope and rage at the invaders.

"The Huns were driven back even as the living but injured Shan-Yu was carried to his horse. The walls were retaken by the Han, their hero lifted high even as Tianlinn gathered his men to once more assail their foes.

"The host assembled anew, every warrior gathered in the twilight; there would be no retreat this time, only victory or death, with riches beyond compare for the man to fulfill Tianlinn's vengeance.

"Thunder and fire rained down on the host, death and confusion sweeping away the discipline of seasoned warriors. Through the smoke, their men saw the truth and despaired. China is a vast land – thought we had ravaged much, it was hardly all. General Li and his White Hose Army had arrived.

"Bharbo's dying had delayed us long enough to let him reach the Imperial City before it fell. Pouring the scouts into the host had left us blind and had let him take up position in three directions. Our failure on the wall left us surrounded. And his new weapons, the cannon, let him become the hammer to the anvil of the Imperial City.

"Fire and thunder burst amongst men and horse, arrows rained down from all directions. Men rallied their tribes, only to fall. Tianlinn despaired and clung to his horse, all his strength being used only to not fall.

"The host might have been destroyed utterly then, but for King Buriliegi. Roaring defiance, a sound more beast than man, he rode forth to the Han center, his men on his wings. Though thunder and steel rained down and warriors fell on all sides, the King of the Left charged on, his contempt for his foe seeming a shield. Ax in each hand, he broke the spear line as if was nothing but a stand of weeds. In their midst he swung his axes, each blow severing a Han head as his stallion trampled men underfoot. Howling like a demon, he taught them terror and his surviving men arrived to teach them death.

"The others saw his wisdom; Li could not fire upon his own massed men as he did across the field. The only way out was through. The host rallied following the King's lead, and though many and more perished on that field and in the press of spears, the host broke through, fleeing to the north.

"Alive but undeniably defeated Huns limped home, Tianlinn vanishing into himself. He who had come south full of glory and the promise of a most worthy heir, returned disgraced and defeated, his host led in all but name by his brother. And at their backs they knew the Han celebrated their ill-gained victory, and the men forgot what Tianlinn had been so they could hate the weakness he had been consumed by.

"In the face of such defeat, and the heir's death, a summit was called to settle the matters. Tianlinn had many sons, and while none shamed him, even the best of them seemed but a pale shadow of Bharbo. Many whispered that the King who had released Bharbo from shame, and delivered the host from General Li, should take the mantle.

"Though his shaman urged strength and quick action against the rising tide, Tianlinn mourned and wallowed with his women and drink. Omens were made, signs were interpreted; disaster, they spoke of, but who would heed such when they could say disaster had already come?

"It had not; the worst was still to come, and it came on the night of the black shroud, when the moon hides her face and the stars above are hidden from sight; the night when dark spirits walk the land with strength. It was then the daggers were drawn in the dark, and the Blood of Modu ran freely.

"Buriliegi seized all, every son, daughter, granddaughter, grandson, or kinsmen who bore the blood. Even beyond, those who had stood against him or whose loyalty to Tianlinn was too strong. It was swift and merciless; those who stood, stood alone, as too many sat back in fear and surprise.

"The royal shaman could only save one son, the child of Zaya. Zaya, who alone was spared of the wives of Tianlinn, and was taken by force as a prize of Buriliegi. Whose tongue was ripped from her mouth for refusing to speak sweet lies to the usurper. Which was only the first of many indignities and injuries to be heaped on her.

"Bataar vowed in exile he would return to save her. And though he would return, it would be to avenge, not too save. A year before the true Shan-Yu returned, in a fit of rage Buriliegi would slay his wife and the mother of his son. Whatever he had once been, the Usurper had become a monster, anointed by the dark spirits as one of their own.

…

…

"And that is the story of how these things came to be," Old Moon finished. He passed her the kusmiss; this time she took it, taking a significant drink.

"That's not the end," Mulan pointed out.

"True, but by their very natures, stories give way to other stories. And the tale of victory is best separated, to think on what was first lost.

"You see, his uncle may have slaughtered his kin, raped and murdered his mother, but that is a foe Bataar has vanquished. Alas, his vengeance is not so easily slated after long bitterness rotting his soul. No, instead he sees another to bring his hate down upon.

"General Li? Yes. The Emperor? Yes. But most of all, the man who set all the ruin in motion with a poisoned blade – Fa Zhu," Old Moon said grimly.

"…" Mulan stared, mouth agape. From that perspective, she had not recognized the old story until just now.

"Yes, Bataar is a monster to you, and our hero. And your hero is the one who began our dark days with false honor. Be a bit less quick to judge, and quicker to think on the actual problem, and you will thrive where others have failed," Old Moon advised. Smiling in the hopes his message had gotten across, he pulled himself up, and hobbled off.

"Old Moon!" she called after him. The shaman stopped to look back; she was standing now. There was some fire in her eyes, but not anger, he noted.

"I don't think you lied to me with that story. But I think you are wrong about one thing; Fa Zhu is a man of honor, he would not use a poison blade, not even on a Hun," she declared.

"…I have never met the man so I could not say. But be careful – your husband hates that man, speak too loud in his defense and he may show that darker side you know so well," the shaman advised. This time she let him walk away.

Letting out a long breath, Mulan leaned back against the fence. Mushu popped up from behind the fence to lean on its top; Cri-Kee leapt out of Mulan's hair to join the dragon on the post. Mushu reached down out of sight and pulled out a small chip of soap.

"Would you like some of this to go with that opera, madam? As if things weren't complicated enough already!" Mushu shouted.

"It hardy matters, Mushu," Mulan told him, rolling her eyes.

"_Hardly?!_ The next best thing to revenge on the actual guy is cutting the bloodline, and you're already between the blades of that guy's scissors!" Mushu ranted. Mulan pinched his mouth close with two fingers.

"Glad to see you're no worse for wear for joining the Hun guardian spirits, Mushu. Anyway, it doesn't matter unless he finds out and only we can let that secret out. Which we won't. Besides, he might kill me anyway, so worrying doesn't make sense," Mulan explained.

"Well, at the very least your dad got some preemptive punishment in," Mushu shrugged.

"No, he wouldn't use a poisoned blade. Honor is more than words for him," Mulan said softly.

"Baby girl, war is nasty. Ol' Fa and others tend to survive by doing what they have too. I mean that's what you're doing, doing what you have to survive, so you can make it home," Mushu said. Cri-Kee chirped in sad agreement. Mulan frowned, turning to watch Min watching her warily.

"I still don't believe it. And ancestors as my witness I will ride that horse out of this camp!" Mualn declared, vaulting the fence.

"*chirp*"

"Don't tell her, but my money is on the horse. That cow set the bar too low," Mushu told Cri-Kee.

_Next Day:_

Unegan and Bataar stood watch atop their stallions, watching as the Summit tent was taken down. Coyot sat atop his own mare to Bataar's right, Barrago lingering to watch as well. The tent was already lowered to the ground, the woodworks being gathered up and the canvases reverently folded. Though it would likely not serve such a purpose again, the cloth had been consecrated for this function.

"And so another Summit ends. It's been a long time since a royal birth. Will we be getting together to celebrate Bataar's first-born soon enough?" Coyot asked no one in general. He received no answer, Barrago and the royals ignoring him.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned his tan horse from the Hill to look out over the summit grounds. The damage caused by the vacated rives was apparent; the Steppes were not meant to host such numbers of men and stock for long. Still, most were gone now – all that remained were the tribes whose chieftains were gathered here with him.

"Well, I'll be off then," Barrago huffed, turning his own stallion away. Coyot saw that the work was done and the tent was disassembled and being brought down.

"It was certainly an interesting Summit; one of my wives seems to have taken an interest in yours," the King of the Right noted. Bataar spared him a glance but said nothing.

"The greater wonder is that my brother seems gentler than expected. So surprising he didn't accidentally break such a small girl," Unegan said. They had entered the grounds where the tribes were punted and hitched, ready to move out. Unegan had spoken loudly enough for the words to carry. The joke earned him scattered laughs.

"Hopefully she proves more respectful than Coyot's women," Barrago ground out.

'Why did he linger if he's only going to complain?' Coyot wondered. Reaching Bataar and Unegan's combined Ger, the royal brothers pulled ahead and turned their mounts to face the other two chieftains.

"Until we meet again," Bataar addressed them politely if not warmly.

"Cherish the daylight, good sirs," Unegan smiled at them pleasantly. Barrago nodded agreement, Coyot looked at Unegan for a moment at the odd farewell, but nodded as well.

"I had hoped to see that wife of your one last time. Finding out she comes with a dragon makes her quite interesting," Coyot sighed.

"A small dragon," Barrago reminded him. The old Hun held two fingers close together, in case they had forgotten how small.

"Dragon's a dragon, Barrago, call me impressed," Coyot shrugged.

"Impressed!" a woman called out. Coypt gave a short laugh, smiling at the joke before looking to see who had said it.

Hachin came out from behind the nearest Ger wagon, atop the white mare that the Shan-Yu had given her. She smiled at the four men, kicking the horse into a canter as she came up to them. She even had the saddlebags and blanket in their proper places on the horse, Coyot noticed.

"Well, shall we be going?" she asked them. Without waiting for a reply, she turned away and made for what passed for the front of the joined Gers.

"Well…" Unegan slipped; judging by his look, even the fox was at a loss for words. That made Coyot smile widely.

"A queen indeed. Hurry up with that prince, my Shan-Yu, I want to see how she turns out," Coyot laughed. With a rally cry, he kicked his mare into a gallop, his Ger starting to move as he made his way to the head. Barrago raised his fist, a horn sounding somewhere to set his own people into motion. The elder Hun left the two royal brothers to begin his own journey.

"I know you are up to something," Bataar said to his brother.

"Oh, a man can't want to become closer to his only living kin without sinister intentions? And why worry with that mighty new guardian spirit you have just now acquired?" Unegan asked, looking hurt.

"Unegan, I have let you thrive despite my distaste for your existence. But there is a line carved unto the grasslands, cross it and I will kill you without a moment's hesitation or a drop of remorse," Bataar whispered so only his half brother could hear.

"Tag along, do what you said you would, and go back to where you belong, and there will be no reason you can't spend the rest of your life slaughtering the weak and fathering daughters," the Shan-Yu continued. He silently sent his stallion into a run and the Ger started to lurch into motion, whoops and cries rising from the ranks of the Huns.

Unegan sat still stop his mount a few moments, just watching the motion unfold in the mass of people and animals. He smiled, apparently at the sight.

"Soon enough brother, I will have all you took from me and more. Soon enough," the King whispered.

Kicking his horse into a gallop, he rode to the front of the caravan, taking a place beside Hachin, who was sitting stiffly atop her mount. His wife between him and his brother, Bataar rode a bit ahead of them both. Already the Hill of Eight Bears began to grow distant behind the three and those who followed them.

* * *

**Author's Note 2:**

_Yes, I am a George RR Martin fan. I started reading ASOIAF back in 2004, another member of the summer Shakespeare group introduced me to the work. I borrowed some elements here obviously, the idea of a great warrior dying in such a manner seems a reasonable way to hurt a proud warrior race._

_Next chapter is looking to be pretty stuffed already, so updates on the situation south of the wall will likely wait until the chapter after next._

_Hope the quickness of my update did not result in a decline of quality._

_Long days and pleasant night to you all._


	11. Seeds of Discord

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Mulan; that is my statement and I am sticking with it.

_Betaed by:_ Zim'smostlloyalservant

_Original Idea by_: Jazzqueen

* * *

**Seeds of Discord**

Mulan woke with a yawn, disentangling herself from the deer and goat hides serving as her bed. Cri-kee chirped in greeting, hopping out from somewhere. Mulan picked the bug up and combed her bed head back with her other hand. A quick look around the tent showed her so-called husband had risen early.

"It's not like I want to talk with him. But it's very annoying he can move around without waking me up like that," Mulan told the cricket. She took his following chirps as assent.

She went through her morning routine, the first part of which was dumping her untidy assortment of bedding on the Hun leader's own, immaculately made, sleeping area.

"At least he left a decent fire this time," Mulan grumbled, kneeling down by the stove. She felt Cri-kee relax and put him down near the fire to warm up, as she went to get dressed. This time, she decided to wear one of the Hun dresses. It was nice to be able to choose whether or not to wear trousers on a given day.

Having donned a predominantly blue one, she pulled out a pot and some sacks with strips of dried meat. Cri-kee chirped a question, cocking his head.

"Well, I'm supposed to be the woman of the… tent. Cooking probably comes with it. How hard could it be? I used to help mother and grandmother in the kitchen.

**XXX**

"#$*&, #^!" Mulan cursed, dumping the blackened contents behind the tent. She was certain that was not where it went, but frankly she couldn't take the closeness of the contents' stench any longer. Cri-kee peeked out from under her shirt and chirped.

"No, my tea pouring skills don't carry over to cooking! This was a complete fluke, Hun food is just more complicated than it looks," Mulan defended herself to the bug.

"How very sad," a smooth voice spoke behind her. She turned on the spot, swinging the pot by the handle. It whirled through empty air as Unegan casually stepped back. He smiled down on her, and she held the pot a bit self-consciously. As usual, he was bedecked like royalty, adorned with gold and fine clothes, his hair pulled back neatly.

"Such menial tasks should be beneath you. My brother truly is sadistic to set such a fine wife to such lowly work," he continued.

"Your wives do this sort of thing," Mulan answered. She may not like this, but it seemed like an insult when he said it. She had done plenty of chores for her family and felt no shame about it. Granted, cleaning out the chicken coop was terrible, but that was not the point.

"Oh, you are too generous towards others, my Han beauty. Those sour investments are nothing compared to you," he leaned towards her, smiling as he said it. Mulan found herself very aware of the fact no one was in sight.

'Calm down, he is your best ticket out of here,' she reminded herself.

"You're not upset about the wedding night-" she asked. He put a finger to her lips and she stopped talking.

"Hush, it doesn't need to be spoken of. Missed opportunities are failures only to the unimaginative. Our chance will come soon enough. You need only be ready to act as I tell you when the time is right. And then, we get what we want," he told her softly, leaning in close to her face. Mulan gently shoved his hand from her face.

"In the meantime, I seem to be failing at cooking," Mulan reminded him.

"Bataar received a number of slaves as gifts," Unegan pointed out.

"Sold, or assigned to help the Ger in general with the loss of manpower," Mulan told him.

"Typical Bataar, acting like he is still living in the wilds with shamans. I could loan you one of my lower wives, there is precedent for such," he offered.

"Actually I would rather have lessons," Mulan told him firmly.

The King's eyes flashed as he scowled at her. The moment passed swiftky and he was all smiles again, stepping back to a polite distance.

"Of course, you shall have what you want. And if you find them lacking as teachers, just tell me," he assured her.

**XXX**

It was getting to be that time of year, Choeten noted, hanging up her laundry. The cold was starting to kill the gossip in the washes, everyone was too eager to get done. Yes, she thought, seeing how only a few girls were left already in the area, that time of at the change of seasons, Choeten turned to grab another piece of cloth; nearly colliding with a certain one eyed woman.

"Ah!" she cried, taking a step back. Oyunbileg smiled and held up a piece of underclothing, which the Hun wife snatched out of her hand.

"Still on vapors from your wedding? I hardly had to try when sneaking up on you," the spear wife greeted her.

"Some of us have better things to do than hone our skills at children's games," Choeten snapped. For a few minutes silence held between the two, Choeten focused deeply on the laundry and Oyunbileg taking a seat on an upturned tub to watch her.

"You've been ignoring everything unrelated to your little marriage for days, are you still going to ignore me?" Oyunbileg asked. Choeten flapped a piece of wet cloth harshly and turned a glare.

"Some of us take marriage seriously. But you know I haven't been ignoring everything, and you didn't come to taunt me," Choeten said. Oyunbileg glanced around, and spotted Suren perched atop the nearest tent. Noting her attention, the hawk gave a cry, which she nodded to.

"No eavesdropping, according to keen eyes. What do you think of all these new men?" Oyunbileg pressed.

"Bad news for the most part. Men follow after their leader, and King Unegan is not well represented. Still, you've been meddling. Advising the girls and widows to steer clear of them," Choeten shook her head, bending to task.

"You just said they were bad news," Oyunbileg objected.

"Typical spear wife trying to tackle things head on like a man, when subtlety would get you further at a lower price.

"You got told off by the King himself for undermining this coming together of tribes he is pushing. The Shan-Yu couldn't support you without slapping him in the face without provocation. And with you hardly a successful wife yourself, this just makes you look bad," Choeten reported.

"So what would you do?" Oyunbileg growled.

"These men are brutes and bullies; they think too much of their status as part of a King's tribe. Their women are beaten down enough to not even offer warning to others. Such men, if confronted, have to strike, or their little vanities collapse like a child's first tent.

"I hate to say it, but you need to recruit more spear wives," Choeten sighed.

"What?" Oyunbileg asked shocked.

"There are none in Unegan's tribe, and no, don't try and recruit any there. As usual, you will probably get only a handful of interested girls; but the sight of women learning combat will send a message they can't ignore, or take offense at," Choeten explained.

"Hmm, and we need more warriors if Unegan is more his father's son than Bataar thinks. Though most spear wives aren't worth anything until they taste battle and decide whether they can stomach it or not," Oyunbileg commented.

**XXX**

Khongordzol had been waiting when Mulan arrived with the King of the Left at his grand tent. The fancy woman had been all smiles like her husband, but the mask almost slipped at the mention of cooking.

So it was that after Unegan made his exit, the chief wife escorted Mulan back out of the tent to a nearby laundry area. It was not communal like the one from Bataar's Ger, far too small with only two tubs with two women working them.

The cook from before the wedding spotted them quickly and threw a damp rag at her companion. It hit the other woman in the side of the face. With a yelp, the thinner woman stood up from her work, glaring at her companion. Solongo pointed at the approaching women, the three-braided woman quickly rolling her sleeves back down over her damp arms.

"Solongo, Odgerel, congratulations - you have a chance to serve your husband and king well," the chief wife said as they reached the pair. The women bowed deeply.

"How can we serve him?" Solongo asked softly.

"Queen Hachin is taking her wifely duties seriously. She wishes to learn how to prepare new food for her husband, you will teach her," she commanded. With only a nod to Mulan, the older woman turned and walked away with her head held high.

Mulan found herself standing a bit awkwardly as Solongo lifted her head and Odgerel's remained bowed.

"She's gone, Odgerel," the cook whispered loudly. The other wife snapped back up, and kneeled to resume doing laundry.

"Roll up your-!

"Ah Lady Maral. Queen Hachin, good morning," Solongo stumbled over the words. Mulan looked from the forced beaming from one woman to the other studiously ignoring her.

"Umm, hello. I hope this doesn't come at a bad time?" Mulan pressed. Solongo kept smiling, stepping around her tub, past the working woman.

"Of course not. Now the stove should be cooled, so we can do most anything with the ingredients at hand. Or I could send for something. Everything is always so well stocked after a summit. Where would you like me to begin?" Solongo asked.

"Well, I think I burned water this morning," Mulan admitted with a shrug.

"Ah, well then. Best get started, shouldn't we?" Solongo declared. She made to grab Mulan's hand, but pulled back, instead walking away and gesturing for her to follow.

"What about your laundry?" Mulan asked, pointing to the other wife of Unegan bent to the task. Solongo turned around and was clearly getting agitated.

"Oh, Odgerel can handle it. She doesn't really cook, and clothes are where she shines, from washing, to mending to making. Isn't that right, sister?" Solongo asked. Odgerel nodded, and looked up at Mulan with her arms elbow deep in the water.

Once the Queen and her sister wife were gone, she pulled her arms out rolling the soaked sleeves up revealing large bruises around her elbows. Moving to the vacated tub, she pulled out a piece of clothing and got to work.

**XXX**

Suren rode on the winds above the camps – despite being placed so closely, there was no doubt to his eye that they were very much two. That boded ill – his familiar and the other were rivals, and in men as with other creatures, rivals could only exist close for so long before it came to blows.

He could see the dragon making his prescribed patrol; as ever, the fool's audacious coloring made him easy to spot. Suren had no doubt the ridiculous spirit would abandon its post the moment it was unattended.

It was vulgar, a spirit wandering about like this. Being a guardian, he should either be a flesh and blood familiar like Suren or a spirit to be called on. The Chinese truly had no taste.

'It was a mistake by the Great Spirit Man to bind that one. Better to have sent him back south where he belongs,' Suren thought.

He had other matters to attend to though, let the dragon loaf.

He was not hasty in changing course; there was no need. He knew what he sought and was confident his eyes would reveal it.

Something foul was in their midst. Something hidden, and dangerous. It had appeared with their departure from the great gathering. With the failed mating ritual. She was dangerous, but he had already known that.

Swooping down silently, Suren landed atop a pole looking down on the rival's mating grounds. His false offspring were with the threat, the failed mates at hand.

Folding his wings imperiously, the bird of prey watched.

**XXX**

"So cute!" One of the little girls squealed. Mulan held Cri-kee in her cupped hands as she keeled amidst the children, her nieces by law. The cricket seemed both flattered and nervous. Not without reason, she supposed; they had never seen a cricket before, so probably didn't know how delicate they could be.

"Is he a familiar like Suren?" one of the older girls asked. Mulan smiled at the girl; she remembered that age, old enough to want to pretend to not care about things that got other girls excited.

"No, my grandmother gave him to me as a good luck charm," Mulan told them the half dozen girls.

"Wow, what for?" another girl asked. Solongo stood nearby, working on lunch. Mulan's loss of interest in favor of the girls seemed to not be vexing the solid woman very much.

"Girls, do not pester Queen Hachin, she is a guest," the other woman said loudly. Mulan couldn't resist the way the girls pouted at those words.

"I don't mind.

"I was given him for good luck as part of a match making ceremony," Mulan told them.

"Did he work?" another small girl demanded to know.

"Well, I set the matchmaker on fire," Mulan confessed. She blushed, remembering that cart wreck.

"Han have weird ways of matchmaking," one of the older girls declared. Mulan blinked as the others agreed with that statement. Did they think she had been _supposed_ to set the fat woman on fire?

"Well, Cri-kee here did his job. You got a shan-uu for your match," the older girl declared again.

"What do you think of your uncle?" Mulan asked. She did not want to respond to that statement.

"He's scary. Father told us he would kill anyone for displeasing him, even a little. Including little girls," one of them whispered to her.

"It must be true, because he's father's brother, and father hits you if you don't do well," another whispered.

"But it's worse when he calls for others. Momma Odgerel spent a night away with them and her voice was broken," The oldest one whispered, leaning in close to Mulan.

"The night away?" Mulan asked.

"She slapped father. He called the men and they took her away all night-" the oldest girl continued staring at Mulan. The girl gave a squeak as Solongo pulled her pack by the collar of her faded dress.

"Tali! That is quite enough! I let you all stay here because the Queen seems to like you; but if you can't behave go back to Dalan," Solongo commanded.

"Ahh," the girl, Tali, whined.

"No whining, and that goes for the rest of you. Off with you now!" Solongo commanded, clapping her hands. Despite the order there was indeed whining, but the girls walked off back into the big tent. Though the youngest stopped and ran back to Mulan, hugging her.

"You're a great aunt Miss Hachin," the girl said. Then she was off, running after her sisters and half sisters.

"Well, shall we get back to it then?" Solongo asked Mulan, offering her a hand up. Mulan took it, putting Cri-kee back on her shoulder.

"What happened with Odgerel?" Mulan asked. The other woman paused and gave her a small frown.

"Wives keep their husbands' secrets, Hachin. I expect it's the same among the Han," Solongo answered shortly. They went back to the cooking in silence, Mulan observing an imitating.

'I don't like this.

'He your chance at freedom, at home. You don't need to like him to use him against his brother,' Mulan argued with herself.

'You did far worse to Bataar than just slap him, and he didn't have his men rape you. Not even the one who wants to. Both may be wicked, but which one has some kind of honor at least?'

She had no answer for herself, and felt cold despite the hot stoves around her.

**XXX**

Old Moon sat in his tent, closing his good eye as he let out a very, _very_ long sigh. The small stone hammer he held was placed gently aside before closing his age-ravaged hands. Still unseeing, he reached out and pulled a cracked horse skull off the fire and into his lap.

The subdued flames leapt up anew, the smell of clean smoke beginning to drown out the mystic fumes. Opening his eyes, Old Moon sought out one crack in particular with eye and finger. He found it and sucked in a breath.

Lifting his thumb, he revealed a crack small enough to have been hidden by it. It would seem utterly insignificant amidst all the other greater lines crossing and doubling back across the bone. He supposed that wasn't entirely untrue either.

"Ah, spirits how cruel you can be. So many years lacking a clear path, and you give me signs to follow only as my journey reaches its end. Cruel," Old Moon declared softly. He set the skull aside, staring into the fire.

"Still, little time is far from no time. Perhaps enough to yet make things right for those who will remain, and most of all for those who come after?

"One enemy undeclared, a stubborn fool, and a girl who is stubborn and acting foolish. I'm going to need more kusmiss," Old Moon decided, pulling out his flask.

**XXX**

Night had fallen; it always struck Unegan odd how people shunned the cold of the night but adored the starry sky. The dark nights were warmer; the coming of the stars stole more warmth from the world. He had traveled into the hills with dusk; rank allowed his business to be his own. Not that anyone who had seen his departure would recall.

He wondered at times if his brother felt such satisfaction with the power of a Shan-Yu. Satisfaction to match the thrill of coercing the spirits to favor your destiny?

The King of the Left could feel the cold through his cloak, but it did not matter. Eagerness kept his spirit warm enough for his body. His stallion pawed the earth nearby, testing the stake it had been tied to by its rider. The beast was still unaccustomed to some of its rider's ways.

It gave him a look as he retrieved a saddlebag from the anxious animal and returned to the small pile he had prepared.

Looking to the sky, Unegan deemed the night deep enough, and struck a spark to the kindling he had gathered. The dried grasses and dung ignited immediately, his smile illuminated briefly by the small light.

Whispering a chant, he pulled out a small black cloth punch from his coat and sprinkled in on the tiny flames. With a _whoosh,_ the flames sprang up, sending sparks into the chill air. Holding out his free hand, he felt the air over the fire.

Cold.

Sitting down before the cold fire, he opened the saddlebag, and pulled out a human skull. It was bleached white with time, and marred by two small bumps on the brow above the eyes. Unegan took a moment to trace the flaws with his thumb before placing the skull over the small fire.

The fire seemed to be drawn into the bone, retreating inside to light up the eye sockets and nostrils. Between his fingers, Unegan held two locks of hair bound by knotted grass, one brown and the other silver. Drawing a small knife, the King cut his smallest left finger and let a tiny drop stain each of the locks.

With his other hand, he grabbed the skull as it stared at him. Easing it back so the jaws parted, he gingerly placed the locks into the fire within.

The Hun let out a long breath and he closed the skull and pulled his hands slowly back. Unegan raised his hands and spoke a name to the skull.

The fire flared green and the skull rose into the air, thick smoke coiling about it as the chill grew deeper around him.

Darkness and smoke gathered thicker, smothering the fire as it grew. The skull vanished as the inky mixture covered it. Skeletal arms burst from the stalk of darkness, throwing it back like a cloak as it moaned in satisfaction.

Unegan smiled and looked up into the ghoul's glowing green eyes.

"Kill," he whispered. The dark spirit nodded to him, and blew past him like a leaf on the wind.

The King turned to watch it go, but even knowing what he was looking for the piece of darkness was swiftly lost in the bright night. The creature was empowered now.

"Bataar, your ruin has begun," Unegan laughed.

**XXX**

Bataar entered his tent; as expected, the Han girl was there, waiting. And it smelled, like she had been cooking? He looked to the stove and did see evidence of recent use. He looked to where the girl was relaxing on her side of the tent, laying back on her bedding, a strung bow next to her.

His eyes lingered on the bow before looking to the woman he was sure knew how to use it.

"Well, learning are we?" hr asked. Not waiting for an answer, he took off his coat and threw it onto the trunk it would go in. Walking to his wall, he began to look over his gear and weapons hanging there.

"Do you expect me to just do nothing all day?" she asked.

"No, but it is irritating for you to go scheme with Unegan, girl," the Shan-Yu said as he selected a dagger. Pulling it from its sheath, he inspected the edge and frowned. He began to look for a whetstone.

"Why scheming? Aren't they my in-laws, husband?" each word was sarcastic, but the last word especially. Finding the stone, he took the high seat in the back and began to sharpen the blade. He glanced to the girl and saw she was watching him, that bug sitting on her chest.

"Girl, I would think someone smart enough to be able to infiltrate an army that would execute you for what you have on your chest and what isn't under your belt… would know better than to pick the losing side," Bataar answered.

She sat up at that, holding the bug in a cupped hand.

"So now I'm smart?" she asked.

"Well, my first thoughts were you must have bought some soldiers and an officer's silence with your body. But you are not the type I've seen. So either the Han military is incompetent, or you are smart enough to have stepped around them, girl," he continued. Her face reddened, and not in anger. Despite the cricket, she pressed her fingertips together, clearly embarrassed at the very thought.

Still, he was almost pleased to see her draw anger to rally herself back into being upset with him.

"I have a name, you know, not just girl, or woman," she snapped.

"Yes, I heard the old man give it to you. I was there, remember?" he chuckled, looking back to his work.

"My father named me, Mulan," she said. He didn't look up from the dagger, he only answered with a sound of the steel as the stone slid over it. Finally he spoke.

"Mulan, how strange. You give your own name. In China they pit the family name first always, or should I say they claim to always put family first? And yet you only give your own name now," he commented thoughtfully.

"You haven't earned my full name," she answered shortly.

"Hachin, I honestly don't see how I could care what that name is. When it comes to you there are only three questions I am interested in the answers to.

"What makes you so special in Old Moon's fortune telling? And will you let yourself be so foolish as to move against me?" he thought aloud, still sharpening his steel.

"What's the third?" Mulan demanded. The Shan-Yu raised the blade to look down its length in the firelight.

"And finally, why would someone smart enough to pull off such a charade, take such a foolish risk as joining the Imperial Army?" Bataar asked.

She offered no answers to any of the questions. Not a word was spoken between husband and wife as the evening drew on.

**XXX**

The moon was bright, giving light to the chill steppes as Baraggo walked the steppes, his eldest son by his side. He was the image of his father, set apart only by the lack of facial hair and relative youth with his lightly salted hair.

"The winter will be harsh," Barrago commented, feeling the wind on his face.

"Yes, though I suppose it will be warmer in Persia," his son commented. Reaching a hilltop, they looked back on the lights of the Ger, the noise and scent of it carrying to them on the winds.

"Chuluun, is that what you wish to speak about so far from the others?" Barrago asked irritably.

"You sent Bold with the slaver. My heir should be here. Not rolling on silk cushions with paramours, and drunk on foreign smoke," Chuluun answered tartly.

"Bold is your first born but he is not fit to inherit what I have spent my life building and protecting. Any of your other sons would do better. Let him serve a purpose with that charm of his building contacts among weaker, wealthier men," Barrago dismissed the concern with a wave.

"It is not your place to determine what I do with my sons. I am more than fit…" Chuluun objected before trailing off. Barrago grinned, his one eye squinting.

"Fit to take over the tribe, the family? You put Karman up to offering me a place in Persia, eager to see me ride off and never return," Barrago said. His son looked away from him, and Barrago punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"It must be so frustrating, feeling yourself grow old as you continue to live in my shadow, eh? Think you could do better? Or do you just want what I have?

"I can appreciate ambition, especially in my own sons. But patience boy, or I may pick another heir. Patience and perhaps you will live as long as I and enjoy the spoils long enough to frustrate your own sons," Barrago rumbled.

A cold wind swept over them, rippling the grass as clouds covered the moon.

"Bah, a cold winter indeed!" Chuluun cursed. Both men pulled their cloaks tighter.

"Head back then, warm skins and warm women are the answer to-" Barrago grunted.

*Thunkshunk* Barrago heard his breath hitching at the sound.

"Agh, agggg," Chuluun rasped, blood running from the side of his mouth. A blood stained black blade protruded from his chest. The blade withdrew and Barrago's eldest son fell forward onto the grass and stones.

"Assassin!" Barrago cursed, drawing sword and pulling a hand ax from his belt. The attacker seemed hunched behind his son's corpse, dark and unclear. The clouds cleared for a moment, as blazing green eyes opened.

Barrago stood his ground and held his stance, but his good eye did widen at the sight.

"Restless dead," he whispered. The blackness covering the ghoul's face pulled back like lips, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

"Raaaaggh!" Barrago roared, charging the dark spirit.

"Fool," the ghoul whispered. Raising its inky blade, it deflected the sword and bent impossibly around the axe swing for its side. Catching its counter strike on his sword, Barrago fell back.

"Guardians!" Barrago called. Nothing answered him in the night.

"You are cursed this night, fool, as is your clan. They cannot hear you!" the ghoul cackled.

"Then I will end you myself," the old chieftain growled.

The ghoul spread its arms wide as the Hun charged it weapons raised. It floated back mockingly around his attacks. A roaring overhead blow came down, trying to slice it in half, planting Barrago's sword tip in the ground.

The ghoul's blade came down on his extended arm, hitting the thick gold bracelets covering his wrist. The gold parted, and the blade rebounded with a cling.

Barrago's ax swung up, chopping through the arm. The ghoul hissed as its inky fleshed parted, the blade and hand falling to the ground.

Barrago stood smiling as the ghoul withdrew, holding up the damaged bracelet.

"Plated, beneath the gold, true steel!" Barrago laughed, stepping over the severed arm.

"Hmm, crafty, but as ever not as smart as you think," the ghoul hissed. Barrago frowned as he held his weapons at ready.

"Who cursed me and mine?" Barrago demanded.

"I will tell you, but first…" the ghoul said.

**SHUNK**

Barrago gasped and looked down at the black blade sticking out from his stomach. Behind the chieftain, the severed hand floated, and pulled the blade back out.

Coughing blood, Barrago trembled on unsteady legs, struggling not to fall to his knees as the severed hand serenely returned to its arm. The ghoul approached the dying chieftain as his weapons fell from numb fingers.

Baring his teeth, Barrago glared at the abomination looming over him.

"I said I would give you an answer," the ghoul reminded him. The darkness on its head peeled back, revealing a face. The Hun's good eye widened at the sight.

"And so you finally fall. But do not despair – your descendants will join you soon enough," the ghoul assured him.

"B-b-burn," Barrago spat. With a single smooth motion, the ghoul's blade parted his head from his body. Barrago the Defiant fell forward, and cold winds blew over the steppes as the ghoul vanished back into the night.

**XXX**

The mare galloped through the hills, breath misting in the chill of the night. Her rider reined her in, patting her neck as she slowed to a trot.

"Easy there girl, what's gotten into you? Galloping after dark like that?" Coyot asked. The mare offered no answer, staring ahead, paying its rider no attention. The King sighed, looking back over his shoulder.

"Great, she's out of sight. What am I going to have to bribe her with this time to keep – what?" Coyot grumbled. He trailed off, grasping his left forearm.

Something black erupted in front of him, and swiped at the horse's neck. With a too human cry, the horse went down, rider leaping from the saddle.

"Bastard!" Coyot cursed, looking to his dying horse. The ghoul drew back, letting the King see it as the horse kicked its last.

"Abomination, you dare attack a King of the Huns!?" Coyot demanded. He stood and walked to his dying mount; kneeling, he looked into its eye as the light left it, and closed it. The ghoul laughed while he dipped two fingers into the pooling blood.

"You think your guardians will answer your call? I am empowered tonight, they will not hear your voice," The ghoul mocked.

"Oh? Good thing I have something close at hand then," Coyot sneered. Rolling back his sleeve with his clean fingers, he held up his arm to reveal a leaping wolf tattooed on his forearm.

"Didn't expect this? I didn't get this far by being conventional," Coyot remarked. He smeared the horse blood along the tattoo as the ghoul sprang towards him, drawing its blade.

**Ching**

A glowing wolf with red eyes growled at the ghoul, around the blade caught in its teeth. It released the blade as the ghoul tried to twist it. Flicking saliva off the blade, the ghoul drew back as the growling wolf began to circle. Coyot circled in the opposite direction, watching the ghoul intently.

"Hhhhh," the ghoul growled, looking from one foe to the other.

Faking toward the wolf, the ghoul lunged at the King, sword raised. Coyot felt his sword chip under the force as he deflected and ducked the counterstroke. The creature's arms moved bonelessly.

The ghoul raised his free hand towards the charging wolf, green lightning leaping from his fingertips. The wolf seized up as it was shocked, howling in pain. The ghoul closed his fingers into a fist, and the lightning cut off. The guardian wolf fell to its side, tongue lolling out.

Coyot stabbed his sword into the ghoul's chest and twisted the blade in the black mass. The ghoul might have grunted at the impact.

"Hahaha!" the ghoul laughed. It stopped laughing as Coyot rammed a knife through its left eye.

"REEE!" the ghoul cried, backhanding the Hun away, sword and all.

The ghoul grabbed the dagger by the hilt and pulled it free. Something like tar poured from the eye. Green fire poured from the wound, retracting to reveal the eye restored. Hissing, the ghoul turned his attention to his prey.

Coyot panted as the wolf limped to his side.

"Looks like an impasse," he remarked. The ghoul growled at the pair.

A voice carried through the night, all combatants turning towards it.

Coyot froze, and the ghoul turned towards him slowly, darkness peeling back into a skeletal sneer.

"No! Kill it!" he commanded. The wolf leapt with a snarl, but the thing was gone, flying into the night.

Coyot took off after it, feet pounding the ground, leaping unseen obstacles by instinct. The guardian caught up with him, keeping pace with the King. Not that he noticed; his eyes were straining ahead, ears struggling for any noise.

"Turn around! Go back!" he screamed.

**XXX**

"What's he thinking leaving me like that? Jerk! He's so going to pay," the girl told her yearling as they made their way though the darkness. The mount made a huffing sound she took for assent.

"Father! Where did you go!?" she shouted again.

"To far away, child," someone whispered.

"Wha?" she asked.

A cold hand seized her by the throat and lifted her out of the shadow. The small horse flared its nostrils, whirling, only to be backhanded aside.

"I come to collect what is owed, and your father pays one way or another," the ghoul told the wide-eyed girl. She opened her mouth to scream and it rammed an extended hand down her throat.

She tried to do something around it, even biting down, to no avail. With a snapping sensation her eyes went blank, and she fell back around the arm. Coyot's daughter fell limply to the ground, chest rising and falling as she gazed up at nothing.

The ghoul stood over her as Coyot's voice carried over the steppes. It chuckled, opening a fist to reveal a pebble-sized piece of shifting light.

"Not the boy's plan, but I prefer you know despair anyway. Realize how impotent your strength truly is, so called Beast," the ghoul laughed, placing the tiny soul in its chest. Laughter carrying on the wind, it vanished back into darkness, leaving the confused horse to nudge its fallen rider with her snout.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Well sorry for the wait *wink*. I was expecting this to be done sooner honestly. My goal; for next chapter is next Sunday. A chapter in which we head south to China to check in with some of the boys and the fate of a certain man. And on the Steppes Mulan starts to find a role, while plots begin to bear fruit._

_Hope these short chapters are proving enjoyable._

_Long days and pleasant nights you you all._


	12. Soldiering On

_Disclaimer: _It is certain, that I still do not own Mulan!

_Betaed by: _Zim'smostloyalservant

* * *

**Once a Soldier**

The birds were singing; it was a happy song.

Fa Zhu opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Sitting up on the thin mat, pain shot through his leg. He winced at it, clenching his teeth. That was not the old discomfort he had grown used to over the years.

"Where am I?" he asked. It was a plain room – there were three other mats, unoccupied, and the small ornamental circular window letting the light and bird sing in.

The door slid open, revealing a wide man who looked to be of an age with him. Judging by his overly plain but well-made robe and shaved head, a monk.

"Ah, the signs spoke true; welcome back to the land of the living good sir," the monk smiled. He had his share of wrinkles and gray bushy eyebrows. A kind face, Fa Zhu felt no threat as the man moved and knelt next to him.

"What happened? Where am I?" Fa Zhu repeated.

"Where you are is an old temple, long abandoned and recently refurbished to house refugees and my patients. War does that, makes us appreciate the value overlooked in peace.

"As to what, you saved a number of people from bandits, but suffered injury for it. Fortunately you were not far from here. You've lingered on the edge for some time, and slept longer.

"It seems your leg was injured before, though I suppose at least your good leg wasn't damaged instead," the monk said, pulling back the blanket to reveal the bandaged and splint leg.

"I was fighting bandits…?" Fa Zhu asked as the monk cast his gaze down.

"They told me your horse twisted at the last moment. He took the arrow in his neck. Fatal, and when he fell your leg was crushed under the weight. I am sorry; it is rare for a man to find such a companion," the monk reported sadly.

"Khan," Fa Zhu whispered. Eyes hardening, he pushed up and looked around for his walking stick.

"What are you doing?" the healer demanded.

"Thank you for all you have done, but I must get moving," Fa Zhu told his caretaker.

"No, you must not. You need rest to heal and as it is, winter is almost upon us. I did not tend to you just so you could kill yourself," he monk said, stopping him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"No, I need to find her!" Fa Zhu objected.

"Her?" the monk asked.

"My daughter… She was in the north. Khan was with her, he was guiding me back to her," Fa Zhu told him. He dared not trust even a monk with his daughter's secret crime.

"Your horse?" the monk pressed.

"Do you doubt me?" Fa Zhu demanded.

"No, I believe a horse so connected to his master would be capable of such. But he is dead, you have no guide," the monk reminded him. Fa Zhu slouched, suppressing a growl. So much time wasted, and Khan gone!? Perhaps he could recall it, but it seemed horrid to hear about his faithful stallion's death from someone else!

'It's like father dying', he recalled bitterly.

"It doesn't matter. She is my daughter, it's my place to rescue her where others wouldn't," Fa Zhu insisted.

"…I was the physician for my temple. We were a mostly cloistered order, turning our backs on the world. We traded crafts of our humble making for goods from the town that was our neighbor. The head priest and myself were the only ones to leave the temple grounds regularly.

"When the Huns came, I was gathering medicinal herbs in the hills. I rushed back, but there was nothing I could do as they burned my home and slaughtered my brothers. I could have fought, tried to, or gone to die with them. I was tempted too; I had been given to the temple when I was seven – it was my life, they were my family.

"But it would have served no purpose. As it was, there were survivors of the town, people who had fled into the forest or somehow hid themselves from the carnage. I joined with them; I treated them when they need it, and many refugees since. And now my new assistants and I are the only men of medicine for far too many leagues, but we do what we can.

"Your desire to aid your daughter is right. And your heroism shows you are a man who tries to do right with his life. But, as it is, you will serve nothing and no one by pursuing it. Instead you should ask, 'who can I help?'" the monk said.

"You are wise, but you are not a father," Fa Zhu told him.

"True, but truly you cannot go anywhere on this leg and you won't have a horse unless you buy one. Now rest," the monk commanded. Fa Zhu let himself be pushed back down onto the mat.

'Useless old man,' he chastised himself, glaring up at the ceiling.

_The Steppes, Right Royal Encampment_

Coyot sat in the sour scented tent, for once barely noticing the odor. The tent always seemed bigger on the inside; it shouldn't hold this much clutter, he thought.

His daughter was on the other side of the fire, the shaman examining her, sprinkling some powder from his large hands. Six-Claws was a big man for a shaman. Despite the gray hair, it was clear he could have been a warrior. His thick beard blended with the bear-hide cloak he wire, the head of the bear forming a helm of sorts.

The powder sizzled, black smoke rising in tiny tendrils before fading. The beady eyes of the shaman narrowed as he looked to Coyot.

"It is as I feared, great King – though Narangerel's body lives, her soul has been taken. The color leaves her for the restless dead have touched her center; they hold it in their grasp, even now," the shaman said, gesturing to the girl.

He could see it well enough by this light. Her skin had grown even paler than her mother's where the sun did not darken it. And her hair, once only a bit lighter than his, was fading to white like an old man's. Already the brown was merely streaks amid the white.

"And Nara's eyes?" Coyot demanded. The shaman dared to smile, and delicately pulled back an eyelid, no doubt looking into her eyes. Turned red, like blood, much to his people's distress.

"A good sign. Red is the color of blood and fire. Life. The eyes reflect the soul, and her soul resists, it fights against death and so the struggle satins her eyes in answer to signs of death," Six-Claws told him.

"What can you do?" Coyot demanded. The man's smile faded as he looked to the King grimly.

"It was a strong creature that attacked you and to do this. I can fight it, but I cannot say I will win her soul back," he said.

"What happens to her, if you try and fail?"

"Nothing; I will take any retaliation on myself. I am a shaman," Six-Claws stated, fixing him with a heavy look.

"What do you need?" Coyot asked. The shaman pointed to his side, singling out a goat hide drum, the size of a man's head. Coyot half rose in the cluttered space taking the drum and with a look returned to his spot.

"Beat the drum in time with your own heart, do not stop unless I tell you," Six-Claws commanded. He reached into the ashes around his fire without fear, coating his fingertips with them.

Muttering under his breath, he drew strange designs on the pale skin of the girl's face. Pulling his hand back, he inspected his work while Coyot beat the drum with his fist. Taking a deep breath, the shaman reached into his cloak and pulled out small brown bag, and a rock, glittering with stray bits of quartz.

"Spirits of the restless dead! You have taken that to which you have no right! Return what was stolen!" the shaman demanded. The fire flared green, almost stopping Coyot's drumming, but died down. The shaman opened the pouch and sprinkled dirt on the still form.

"I command you by the name of the female earth soil, in whose bounty all living things rejoice!" the shaman commanded. The fire flared once more, a cold wind ripping around them. Though the fire receded it remained green, and the chill brought by the wind lingered.

Six-Claws placed the stone over her heart and clapped his hands together. Coyot continued the quickening drum beat.

"By the strength of the male earth stone, whose might holds up all that is, release the soul of this child!" the shaman commanded. Everything in the tent rattled as a gale blew around them.

Coyot's hand shot out, grabbing a stray knife from the air in front of his face. His eyes found the shaman's wide ones, and he realized he had stopped drumming. The fire blew itself out; something horrid was screaming.

Dropping the drum, Coyot put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the horrifying sound. Somehow he heard the shaman call out.

"TAKE HER! TAKE HER NOW!" the spirit man called from the darkness.

Paternal instinct seized the King. He found her instantly despite the dark, turning and leaping into the darkness.

They burst together through the tent door, into the dreary day. The door slammed shut behind them, but it did nothing to drown out the noise.

Backing up, he joined the crowd of onlookers, watching the tent creak loudly as many handprints pressed out against the canvas. He held the sleeping girl close, her steady heartbeat calming his own.

At last the screaming stopped, and the tent collapsed inward. While others recoiled in fear, he blinked at that. It all fell together, not a pole standing. The canvas outlined wreckage, and he could make out the shape of one man. A man who was still, dark stains spreading out on the canvas covering him.

As the people muttered fearfully, Coyot carried Narangerel off into the encampment.

_China:_

Chien Po walked through one town, and saw another. That one had been burned; this one had been spared flames. Others had not been so fortunate, so why was this one stirring his memory so much more?

The towering soldier pulled off his helmet, running a hand through the stubble atop his head. He needed to shave, he had been forgetting lately.

Yes, the town was mess, he thought as he made his way to the square. Looking to a smoke plume to the west he recalled the local lord's fortress. Sacking it had been simple after the battle; he wondered if anyone would bother to rebuild it.

Doors were still on their hinges, having been knocked down or kicked in. He could sense people watching him. Probably should be worried, he thought, they weren't supposed to be wandering on their own. But really, he wasn't worried.

Reaching the town square, he saw the old flowering tree dominating the place. The flowers were gone; instead, Yao was putting strange fruit in the tree.

He approached his friend and the others with them watching the fruit swing in the breeze.

"Chien Po, I thought you were on patrol," the little man greeted him. He knew he should answer, but wasn't sure how, watching the fruit swing as the rope was tied off.

"It's all so familiar," Chien Po told him.

"Oh, them? Yeah, can you believe they were dumb enough to disobey pretty boy like that? I mean, I know the line and walk it, but I ain't crossing it," Yao tried to laugh. Watching his friend, even forced mirth didn't come, and he joined him in looking up.

"Why here?" Chien Po asked.

"Rapists; Li said we could sack the town, but no rape or fire. These guys got caught, so he said to kill 'em and put the bodies here. Show them the Emperor's justice is not just about pounding them back into line. Or something like that," Yao shrugged.

"Remember when we used to sing while we marched?" Chien Po asked him numbly. Yao would have patted him on the shoulder if he could have; the back would have to do.

"Yeah, big guy, I remember," Yao answered.

'A town ransacked, our countrymen dead or terrified of us. Isn't this what I was conscripted to prevent?' Chien Po wandered. He let the other soldiers guide him back to camp, trying to forget the sound of broken bells.

_Nearby:_

Shang stood in his command tent, pretending to be looking over the map of the province. Pieces marked the scouts' best guesses on the state of their enemies after today's battle. Even the cynical reports indicated a good picture. The enemy may not be defeated yet, but any credible threat to the rest of China was quelled for the being.

But what he was worried about at the moment was his adjutant, a man old enough to be his father despite being lower ranked.

'My command tent, my adjutant, my army; when will it stop feeling like any minute someone will walk in and relieve me in favor of the real commander?' Shang wondered.

Much as he wanted to, he couldn't leave the man waiting longer.

"You have issue with how I handled the battle?" he demanded. He did not turn to face the man, but he did shift from looking at the maps to the canvas wall. There was nothing in here except the chair and the portable cabinets for still more maps and other strategic tools. It was starting to irritate him.

"No, you commanded the troops skillfully, your father would be proud of this great victory," Captain Chung said.

"…Permission to speak freely, sir?" the older man asked. Colonel Li turned and gave the man with sideburns a nod.

"Sir, the officers are displeased with the executions," he told him shortly. He was not a handsome man, this one. Sideburns did nothing to distract from a many times broken nose, prominent lips, or far too much sun far too often on his face. But it was clear the words left him feeling awkward. Shang hardly cared about how awkward his adjutant was feeling.

"What?! They object to the execution of rapists?" Shang demanded.

"No, but they feel that you worked to uncover the truth of the claims against those men. In doing so you appeased rebels, at the expense of men who fought for the Emperor," Chung explained.

"The rules of war are clear, and once this rebellion is crushed these will be subjects of the Emperor again," Shang defended.

"But sir, for now they are subjects of rebel lords. And by not declaring for the Emperor, they are acceding to the rebellion.

"Our men are mostly conscripts. Whether they came eager for glory or reluctantly, they knew they had to come or face consequences.

"You know how little they are paid despite their services. We let them plunder so they can profit from their loyalty. And unless their excesses grow to… excessive, we turn the other way."

"Their families get tax breaks in lieu of excellent service," Shang objected.

"Sir, they know now they may not last the first minute of the next battle, or even skirmish. Two years of reduced taxes after the war mean little to them. Plunder and women are here and now. Deny them that and they will be angry with you rather than resting," Chung told him.

"They resent me?"

"It's only natural for most men. They look up to you as a hero, but a man can only endure so many campaign hardships before they become envious of the luxury officers enjoy by comparison. We could even hope to be ransomed if captured; the enlisted men when they are taken captive are treated as little more than slaves, if not executed.

"Resentment is natural, but they must also respect you. Like a father, you have power and privilege far over them. But like a father, they must believe you have their interests near to your heart. That even if you look down on them, you also look out for them as you can. Trust is something no commander can do without.

"The officers fear harshness on your part could drive men to sympathize with the rebels," Chung explained.

"So what then? I'm supposed to do nothing while my own troops despoil China?" Shang demanded.

"No, make it clear you have no patience for this, as you have. But don't look for it. If you hear a man has done such a thing, dismiss it. If you see it or an officer chooses report it, punish him. Firm, and yet lenient.

"Do not treat your own side as if they were your enemies, sir," Chung advised.

"It's not like those women took up arms against us. They are innocent in all of this," Shang said, looking off to the side. The Captain almost laughed at the idea of a woman fight, but he could see his point.

"True, sir. But they are the wives, daughters, and sisters of rebels. When the rebellion ends and men next think of rising up, perhaps the thought of their women being despoiled will stop the from taking up arms where fear of death did not?

"Your father understood such… vulgar necessities," the Captain offered.

Shang glared at the man; the veteran paled and reflexively reached for his sword.

"Get out," Shang ordered. His adjutant practically fled his presence, leaving Shang alone. Alone with a war, one he had to win quickly. If he could not make war civilized, then by his father's grave he would make it brief.

Surely, that is what his father would have wanted.

_The Steppes:_

"Welcome women, and girls," Oyunbileg greeted loudly. She walked in front of the group of women who had gathered outside the tents of the Ger, sword on her belt and a battle spear in her hand. They ranged from just old enough to not be chased on principal to nearly too old to consider starting. Better than she had expected, honestly.

It was too much to hope for that they might all or most dress appropriately, the spear wife thought. The dozen other active spear wives of the Ger were behind her, holding their own spears at rest. As usual, the presence of people at her back put her at ease for public speaking.

"I suppose you want to be warriors? Want some of that glory? Show that stupid boy you can do this fighting thing just as well as he can? A change from a boring life of following your mother-in-law and husbands orders?

"Forget that!

"A spear wife is not a warrior. We don't ride out to win glory or bring back loot to enrich ourselves. That's for men, and knowing how to stick them with the pointy end doesn't make you men.

"We fight, to stay alive and protect our tribe. When a spear wife rides to war, it is for seasoning. No training can prepare you for the moment in your first battle that the finality of killing strikes you. The moment when you realize you may never leave that place alive. When you are the final defense for the children, elders, and your sisters; you can't have that blood be unbroken.

"That is why we are called wives, not women. We do this for our families in particular and our people at large. After you've been blooded, you hope to never have to use these skills, but keep them sharp regardless.

"And even then you aid the tribe. A chieftain can take more warriors to war if he knows there are spear wives to aid those he leaves behind.

"As for showing up the men, that is where the spear comes," she said. She paused, dropping into a brief display of spear positions and thrusts.

"Men are made for war, we are not. Most men will be stronger than you. They will charge faster, they will hit harder, they will tire slower. And when faced with a threat, their killing blood rises much quicker.

"Women can overpower them or best them at their own game. Women like me. But I doubt any of you lot could be me.

"No, instead we change the rules as much to our favor as we can. Instead of favoring the sword, where brute strength and longer reach lets them batter us around, we use the spear to extend our reach over theirs. Be quick and agile, strike at openings and keep them at bay.

"Throwing spears, the bow… we recognize our weaknesses and find ways around them where we can, and where we can't, we try and jump over them.

"But as I said before, we fight to survive. If a man dies in battle, the tribe loses a man. His fertile women can get taken in or willed off. But when fertile women die, where do the babies come from? That is how a tribe weakens, that is how a tribe dies.

"The glory of spear wife is to not be needed, and to come back alive at all when she is needed.

"And don't expect to be appreciated. Many a man who might want you otherwise will keep walking when they realize you are a spear wife. Maybe they are afraid of a fighting woman? Or maybe they see it as an insult, saying you don't have faith in their strength to protect you?

"And women who spurn the spear, can be the cruelest of them all.

"Oh, and of course…" Oyunbileg seemed to realize. She didn't say anything; she simply tapped her eye patch with the spear tip, smiling at those gathered.

She threw her spear onto the grass, the spear wives behind her following suit. Only ten spears were picked up. Oyunbileg was a bit disappointed they hadn't needed more weapons.

'How many will stay once their clothes start getting dirty?' she moaned to herself as one of her women stepped forward and the first day of training began.

**XXX**

Mulan watched the women go though spear routines. If you could call them that. Hun dresses may have been less confining, to accommodate riding, but still they were not suited for this. Though maybe with some modifications…

"Oh no, don't even think about it," Mushu spoke up. The little dragon came up her back to perch on her shoulder. It was odd to have him not hiding from everyone else, and it meant there was no good reason to tell him to go away when he was being annoying.

"Look at them, they don't even know what they're doing," Mulan commented. She was pointing at a young woman with unbraided hair who had just smacked herself in the face with her own spear shaft.

"Of course they don't, and neither do you! Bad enough they pay attention to you as 'Queen of da Huns', you do something no Chinese girl has business doing, they'll watch you even more," Mushu told her.

"I seem to recall you encouraging me in learning," Mulan told him, sounding annoyed.

"That was my dark side! Risking your life for a pedestal. And that's no metaphor baby girl, it is an actual pedestal," Mushu explained.

"Fine, it's not like I want to cause a scene, Gaitan is stalking me again anyway," she told him. The dragon looked over her shoulder, and saw the Hun warrior leaning against a Ger talking to a pretty Hun woman, who was giggling.

"Guess Huns can mix business with pleasure," Mushu remarked.

Mulan ignored him, watching the drill. The mistakes, the corrections, barked orders, so familiar despite the differences.

It hadn't even been half a year, but it seemed like a lifetime ago she reported to that camp. The humiliation in the training, both due to her later friends' sabotage, and Mushu's even more destructive help. But it had turned around; she had earned her place as a soldier and even for the first time in her life found friends.

'Only for them to back down when Chifu called for my head,' she recalled bitterly. True they had tried to stand up for her, but when the Councilor invoked the law, they had stopped.

'Even though had I saved his life. He was cowering in fear hours before, all of them were certain they were doomed. And I saved them.

'Bataar probably could kill a man like Chifu with a single poke, a prick even,' Mualn thought with a wicked smile. The image of the menacing Shan-Yu looming over the pathetic Councilor, oh my yes! Raising his sword and delicately poking the terrified twig man in the cheek, only for him to explode like a firework. But with blood.

'Any chance Bataar could die in the explosion too?' she asked herself.

The possibilities were too much and her grin broke into a loud laugh.

"Mulan?" Mushu asked. She didn't hear him, doubling over in laughter at the absurd thoughts.

"Hachin," an icy voice broke in. She looked up from her bent over position and saw Oyunbileg standing in front of her.

The look in the woman's eye sobered her up, and Mulan stood up straight before the head spear wife. That eye was cold, ice cold. Unlike anything the strange woman had ever directed at her. Mulan almost jumped when the warrior woman stamped her sear butt on the ground.

"Does the distinguished Han woman find women learning to defend their homes and families, amusing?" Oyunbileg demanded calmly.

Mulan stared back at her blankly, and realized all of the spear wives and their students were looking at her. And what her giggle fit must have looked like.

"I am very disappointed. I would expect a woman who has seen war to at least be open to the idea. Perhaps you just need a taste," Oyunbileg sneered. She grabbed Mulan's wrist and dragged her towards the other women. Mushu jumped from her shoulder to latch onto Oyunbileg's chest.

"Hey now!" the dragon objected, putting his face in hers. Without flinching, she grabbed him by the neck, squeezing him with his eyes bugging out, and tossed him aside. In the same motion, she practically threw Mulan into the midst of the recruits. The Huns backed away from her, leaving a rough circle.

Oyunbileg tossed her spear into the air. It cane down directly in front of Mulan, head in the turf.

"If you were that interested in watching, you should be able to demonstrate the spear exercise these brave women are learning. Do it well and you won't have to spar with me for a lesson," the woman said coldly. Mulan pulled the spear out and glared at the woman she might have started to think was a friend.

'Friends… they turn on you quickly, don't they? Maybe I was better off without them. But what should I expect from a Hun?' she thought, looking around her.

She was here because her friends deserted her. Shang had spared her life, but hadn't he owed her more than that? She had saved him twice, once from the Huns, the second from the avalanche.

True, she had not been saving him personally the first time, but the second time she had risked her own life for his. And she had comforted him when Chifu had belittled his every achievement. And again when he lost his father and the responsibility for saving China struck him in the same moment.

He had given her his trust. He had left her to be kidnapped; she was here because of his half assed gratitude.

He could take back the trust, but he could not take back what she had learned from him. The spear wasn't the same as the staff, the weight on one end, the length. But she hadn't pulled that arrow out of the pole by failing to adapt. Her feet went into place, as if it had been yesterday, the weapon falling smoothly into position as posture and weight shifted.

Shang, ingrate.

Chifu, the useless hanger on, presuming to act like he was better than everyone else.

Friends that don't come through for you.

Crazy Huns that make you forget only to remind you!

Scheming shamans.

Fat matchmakers.

A monster who presumed to say her father had no honor.

Everyone thinking she was useless. Whether they hated her or pitied her for it, she was not what they wanted her to be!

She didn't realize her feet had left the ground until they hit it again. Breathing hard, Mulan opened her eyes and looked around. They were still watching her, but mouths were agape now, one veteran spear wife even dropped her spear with clunk.

'…What did I just do?' Mulan wondered nervously. She spotted Mushu, his face covered by a hand, shaking his head. Not a good sign. The women parted, letting Oyunbileg approach her. The cold look was gone, but she wasn't stunned like the others either. She was looking at Mulan like she hadn't seen her before.

"What was that?" Oyunbileg asked plainly.

"Nothing," Mulan panted.

"I don't know what that was exactly, but it wasn't nothing. And I think you weren't laughing at us like I thought," Oyunbileg said. She didn't sound too apologetic; Mulan was surprised the lack of self-recrimination didn't bother her more. She realized the Hun was holding something out to her.

A charm on a string, a small bronze spear glinting in the sunlight.

"I think you should have one of these," Oyunbileg said, casting her eye down.

**XXX**

"Ha, it's been too long since Oyunbileg has been humbled like that!" Gaitan laughed as he escorted Mulan back. She didn't answer; people were watching her again. First it was being the only Han in the tribe, then it was the engagement, now she had done something unbelievable.

"Why is it I never stand out in a good way?" Mulan asked the air. Gaitan laughed at that.

"The only way it would have been better would have been if you told your bodyguard you were going to do that. Then I could have taken bets and walked away with armfuls of other men's money," Gaitan told her. She gave him a glare hat seemed to sober him up a bit; after a few moments of silent walking he spoke up again.

"Still, I suppose you joining the spear wives makes sense. I mean, all things considered," Gaitan mused.

"I haven't said yes," Mulan reminded him.

"…Actually by taking one of their charms, you did," Gaitan told her. She stopped and he took two steps before stopping to look back.

"Why would she ask me to join right after making her eat her words?" Mulan demanded. The shirtless man shrugged.

"She was probably planning on asking you anyway. She is sensitive about people mocking her 'sisters'. Well, not people, but other women. I didn't know her until the Rebellion, so there is a lot I don't get about her. She may be quick to anger at times, but it moves fast through her," Gaitan explained.

Pulling out the charm, Mulan rubbed her temples with her free hand, studying the bronze work.

"Is there anyway I can get out of it?" she asked.

"Yes, a husband has the right to forbid his woman from the spear. So does a chieftain or Shan-Yu if he deems the woman is more useful elsewhere," Gaitan told her.

Mulan let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. For once, she could count on the man doing something she wanted.

She couldn't be around this sort of thing. If today were any indication, she would show her hand easily given the chance. It had always been her hope that being underestimated by the Huns would help her escape. The odds were bad enough without throwing that away.

As Gaitan started to walk on, she felt someone watching her. Looking around she spotted him, Unegan watching from the shadow of a tent. She stood, waiting for him to make the first move, his expression blank. The Hun took a step back and turned away, walking out of her sight.

**XXX**

Bataar mostly ignored the cheer as the hunting party returned. He raised a hand in acknowledgment but it was too routine for him to much care. At the very least, the men Unegan had insisted accompany him, Ulaan, and the others, had pulled their weight.

Swinging down from his horse, he walked the mount along, turning him over to his horse master.

"He did well, give him a dried apple," Bataar ordered. He patted the stallion's neck before taking his leave. He wasn't surprised when Lasuluun came up to him; it was typical for them to report to him quickly on what had happened while he was away.

"The woman is causing trouble," the sour faced man reported.

There was no need to specify. The two silently walked away from the corrals and were soon on the open steppes, more privacy than any tent could offer in his opinion, especially with him spotting Suren in the sky.

"What happened?" Bataar demanded. His old comrade recounted the events with the spear wives, admitting he had not been present. But it did not have the exaggerations that he might expect from the other Hun, so it was likely true.

"Well, that was unexpected," Bataar mused.

"Unexpected?" Lasuluun echoed.

"It doesn't really go against the rules I have set down for her, but it will get them asking questions. Though I suppose Old Moon singling her out ended the people seeing her as just another weak Han," Bataar said.

"What are you going to do about it?" Lasuluun demanded. Bataar looked at him, a little surprised at the tone, but answered easily.

"Decline her joining Oyunbileg's merry band. Easily justified – she is supposed to be bearing my child, and the hens have always claimed all that fighting practice dulls the womb with violence. Or something like that," Bataar shrugged. He supposed that reasoning made some sense, but the mysteries of fertility where not things a man should contemplate or long; it just wasn't done. The matter closed, he turned to head back and see to it.

"That's not enough," Lasuluun insisted. The Shan-Yu stopped and turned back to the warrior.

"What did you just say, Lasuluun?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"You think I am as blind as the rest? You were supposed to break her; I didn't expect her to be walking for days after you carried her into that tent.

"I haven't been around to watch every woman I have taken, but I have seen enough. I _know_ how women are after a man has put them in their place. And you have not broken her," Lasuluun accused, glaring at the larger man.

"I don't recall promising to do _that_. I subjugated her at the river crossing, she has been down ever since," Bataar reminded him, eyes narrowed.

"It's your duty, for the men who died. Who died for your cause, at the hands of that witch. Or are you under her spell now too? Did you let her be on top that night as our comrades spiACK!" Lasuluun fumed. T

The words were cut off as Bataar seized his neck in one hand and lifted the smaller man off the ground.

"It seems you have mistaken long friendship for undue authority. Don't forget you rose high because of my favor. And do not presume to tell your Shan-Yu what he must do," Bataar ordered.

Lasuluun grabbed the arm holding him up. He knew if he went for any weapon at his belt Bataar could snap his neck before any blade was drawn.

"I do not admonish you for your excesses; your loyalty and skills make you valuable. But not so much to overlook treason and insults like this. I won't kill a man for mourning, and that is what I am choosing to see this as," Batttar said. He let Lasuluun go to drop to his rear.

"Do not speak of this with me again. I will handle this as I see fit, and I expect you to follow me in this as you have in everything else," the Shan-Yu told him. This time when he turned to leave he did not look back. Rubbing his bruising neck, Lasuluun looked at his sovereign's retreating back.

"As always, aye. But unlike before, are you the same man worthy of such obedience? I wonder?" he whispered through an aching throat.

**XXX**

It was nice not having the Han girl around for the night.

Apparently, Oyunbileg was making up for her earlier actions with a dinner invitation. Thankfully it was for the girl specifically, so he stayed while she went. He had told her if she wanted to get drunk with the one eyed woman she could just stay there; he was not in the mood to put up with a hangover.

And while he couldn't fully reclaim his tent in her absence, he could at least relax without her passive spite directed at him.

Bataar set aside the leather-working tool to inspect the saddle. Well, it would be a saddle soon enough. The leather he had traded for was excellent…

The door slammed open, his so called wife bursting in. She stormed over to her side of the tent, stopped, and glared at him.

He looked back at her, hand moving to the dagger on his belt.

He didn't really expect her to attack, but he was wondering why she was angry. When she screamed. It was definitely an angry sound more than anything else.

After making the sound she sat down hard on the floor and began to fume. Bataar watched for about a minute, but she didn't so much as glance at him now. He took his hand from the weapon and set back to work on the saddle.

"What is the matter with you Huns?" she demanded.

"Well, since it seems a peaceful evening is out of the question, can I at least know why?" he asked sarcastically.

"She wanted to tattoo me!" Hachin yelled as if that explained everything. It most certainly did not.

"And that is a problem?" he asked. Obviously it was, but if she was going to be vague and annoying…

"Tattoos are for men," she told, him rolling her eyes.

"Ah yes. The perfect smooth skin of the Han bride. It is odd how I can forget what you are," Bataar chuckled. Now he had her attention, she was eying his suspiciously now.

"What do you mean?" she asked warily.

"The Han, with all their ideas of women. A proper lady doesn't do any real work, correct? No calluses from the fields or cleaning. The more your skin is like a sun fearing brat's, the better. So of course any marring of the skin must be a terrible sin against… whoever wrote all those rules you obsess over.

"Tattoos are acceptable in women here. Nothing elaborate, mostly charms meant to aid in something. One of my father's wives had a moon tattoo on her back for fertility. And I hear Choeten has a boar on her rear from a drunken escapade in her younger days – you can ask Batu if it's true. Not common, but not a taboo," he explained.

"She wanted to make a spear on my arm," Hachin told him.

"An honor, then. Oyunbileg has one on her arm. It is a tradition with some spear wives, a mark to show their undying loyalty to protecting their tribes, regardless of where their life takes them. A spear that can't be put down.

"For her to offer that, you must have impressed her," he concluded. It was puzzling though; the one eyed woman rarely did such a thing and only then with women she trusted.

"So it was an honor," she realized.

"Yes," he answered smugly. Looking up from his work, he was surprised to see her looking sorry. She pilled out the Persian's trunk and began inspecting the oils. He had noticed she made busy work when upset.

"It's odd – you could keep your head with death charging down a mountain at you. But you lose your head over the thought of some stained skin. It's hard to believe someone can be so capable at the same time as being a fool," he commented.

"I never realized you could insult someone at the same time as complimenting them," she shot back.

"Heh, it's quite easy when politics are part of your life.

"And it isn't really about your precious skin is it? Oyunbileg's gift would be a Hun mark. You still think you can escape? And you don't want to have to spend your life explaining proof that something happened. You want to go home and act as if I hadn't caught you in the Pass," he smiled, laying it out before her. She didn't say anything, sniffing one of the oils, acting like she couldn't hear him.

"Is that what my brother is promising? Help him steal the mantle and kill me, and you get to go home?

"That's your foolish side, better use your smart side. Only instead of clever ideas, use it to take a look at the King of the Left. He's never done anything without the intent of profiting from it. You think he went from the disgraced son of a usurper to where he is by keeping his promises?

"Oh yes, nothing can be said of wholly broken ones. The ones too big to hide he could claim he upheld the word if not the spirit. But if you look on the tract he has ridden, you will see he has gotten where he is by taking as much as he can, while giving as little as he could.

"Once he no longer needs you, you will be under his power. And do you think letting you ride off for home would benefit him at all?" he asked her sternly. She rose to her feet slowly and met his gaze. He just smiled at her attempt as a blank expression. His arrow hit the mark on that one.

He watched her walk to the door, and open it. Surprisingly she didn't step through, but almost stumbled back. This revealed Old Moon to be standing in the doorway. The shaman looked to the two of them, his face mournful.

"Terrible news in the night," he told them.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Narangerel lives, though she is not doing well. Fa Zhu lives, alas Khan does not. Poor Khan but despite going offscreen he still gets the hero death saving Fa Zhu._

_And things are not exactly sunny in China. Even as kind monks and refugees pick up pieces wars are still being fought. The boys on the front continue the lessons they learned before the Pass, war is not something you can just pass with a song. Loved that bit of the movie, song and dance, to sober serious._

_By the way if you younger readers have never seen the original Mulan theayrt trailer look it up. Finding it on youtube was a treat for me, I still remembered seeing it in theaters, and being blown away. Ah the days of my youth where each year you expected something epic from Disney. _

_Well enough of my musings on the 90s. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

_Long days and pleasant nights to you. And to the journeyers, safe travels and happy returns._


	13. Bitter Truths

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Mulan, or Mushu.

Betaed by: Zim'sMostLoyalServant

* * *

**Bitter Truths**

"Barrago is dead?" Bataar demanded. Old Moon nodded, his eyes closed. The two Huns sat around the fire of the tent. Mulan sat on her bedding, interested, but not part of the conversation.

"The old fo- man, was old, but in good health. What happened?" the Shan-Yu demanded.

"He was murdered, a swordsman it would seem. His heir was found dead with him," the shaman reported.

"…Barrago was old but not weak. He and Chuluun would not have been easy prey in a fight. There must have been more than one assassin," Bataar decided.

"No signs of strange horses where found, and the scouts patrolling wide around the Ger saw no movement.

"Some say Barrago lost his patience with Chuluun, and killed his son before being killed by wounds. But it is also known Chuluun was ambitious and tired of being in his father's shadow. He was apparently also angry about Bold being sent to Persia.

"Many of Barrago's remaining sons claim the elder line murdered Barrago to seize more of the inheritance. Chuluun's sons and wives are claiming the other heirs did this to usurp their branch of the family," Old Moon explained.

"Sadly, they have all inherited Barrago's sense of entitlement and ego. The Old Man had enemies, there is no need to trim back the family tree to assign blame," Bataar rolled his eyes at the situation.

"They don't seem to see that. Barrago was very wealthy and powerful, and his sons have had plenty of time to gather power themselves and form alliances throughout his territory and among each other," Old Moon pressed.

"Are you saying war? A family feud in one of the most powerful and well-connected tribes? I have never heard of them being so unstable!" Bataar demanded.

"With Chuluun gone, the discontent has been inflamed. He may not have been well liked, but he was a known element. With him dead and Bold in no position to press a claim, they face the prospect of a dramatic shift of power in the family. Fear and ambition embolden them, and war may have already begun," Old Moon sighed.

Bataar scowled and ran a hand through his hair. He rose to his feet, looking down on the shaman.

"We will send two parties out. One to Barrago's territory, I want this fighting to cease. If they want to fight it out it will be duels, not by bleeding the steppes white more and drawing more tribes into their squabble.

"The second will ride west, to bring back Bold. He is the designated heir, and even if he can't take Barrago's mantle from this mess, all heirs need to be brought in for a settlement to hold," Bataar said. He walked toward the door; there was work to do.

"Bataar, bringing Bold back is a good idea. But Barrago and his family took your marriage as a slight. They may not be receptive to any demands from you," Old Moon advised.

"Well it's not like this job is usually easy," Bataar shrugged. He went on through the door, leaving his wife alone with the shaman.

"Well, how is married life treating you?" Old Moon asked. She looked at the man steadily, keeping her face closed.

"I need to get some sleep, I have to apologize to Oyunbileg tomorrow," she told him.

"Fine, fine, I can take a hint," he said, raising his hand. Mulan sighed and opened a trunk, pulling out her sleeping clothes. She stopped to look at the shaman, who hadn't moved.

"Do you mind?" she asked politely.

"No, by all means, go ahead," he told her, smiling. A deer pelt was thrown on top of him.

"Well you seem to be picking up some of Oyunbileg's techniques already!" Old Moon spoke up from under the fur. Mulan rolled her eyes; she hoped she wouldn't have to actually throw the old man out.

**XXX**

"You were supposed to kill Coyot. That girl isn't even his eldest daughter, what purpose did this serve?" Unegan demanded. He sat in a chamber of his darkened tent on a high backed chair of dark wood; the ghoul was before him, standing tall in the darkness.

"He suffers now. His weakness is bared for all to see. With the foolish shaman dead, my power creeps over that place, and he will not move her or the tribe as my fever grips her. Soon their fear of what has happened will turn them against him," the ghoul hissed joyously.

Unegan scowled, drumming his finger against the wood.

"Still, you disobeyed my orders – that girl is not the enemy you were sent to gain vengeance on. And can you afford to leave power lying about? I need your strength here; I must move against Bataar sooner rather than later," Unegan mused.

"Why sooner, all goes according to plan, does it not?" the ghoul asked, taken aback.

"He is corrupting her," Unegan growled.

"Her?" the ghoul wondered.

"The sun woman, the Chinese beauty. I saw her taking up arms and behaving like those vile freaks Bataar lets run wild amongst his people.

"It's just like that savage; he ruins everything he touches, nothing but a destroyer!

"She must be mine soon, before Bataar turns her into some savage beast with his vile essence," Unegan spat. The ghoul's eyes narrowed and drew nearer to him.

"The plan was to offer her freedom. To harness her power against our enemies. She does not need to become your bride for that," the ghoul reminded him.

"Oh, but she will! When I have slain Bataar and all the others, she will see I am the perfect groom for her. I will make her a true Queen; even build a palace worthy of her! And she will give me children – no longer will I be mocked by the falsehoods my so-called wives present me with, as if I didn't know they betrayed me to conceal their failure.

"My own ancestors curse me! For being my father's son they still my seed! No one could know, so I had to… But even then, it's only girls; I can't even pretend to have an heir.

"But once Bataar is gone they have to lift this curse. I will be the leader, she will be my bride, I will have sons, and all will be right again," Unegan muttered, drumming the wood rapidly. The ghoul swept down, looking him in the face with its glowing eyes.

"She is dangerous, do not deviate from the plan," it commanded. Unegan stopped his drumming to sneer at the restless spirit.

"Do not command me. I summoned you and can send you back," he retorted.

"Ha! You called me because you were full of impotent anger and fearful desperation. You were nothing when I was first called back to this world," the ghoul laughed deeply. Unegan frowned, trying to rise from the chair.

"But now I am-"

"STILL NOTHING WITHOUT ME!" The ghoul roared. It shoved him back, sending him and the chair crashing to the carpet. Unegan looked up, eyes wide, as the ghoul loomed over him.

"You are pathetic, and at this point its unlikely that will change. But you are all I have, so I will make your wishes reality, the ones that matter. Now, think about what I have said and do not miss the opportunities I have set in your path," the ghoul ordered.

It was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Unegan staring up at the ceiling.

"I have changed, I am not the same wretch," Unegan protested. He pushed himself up to his feet and looked around for nearly a minute.

"Dalan!" he yelled. He stood there waiting until a canvas flap parted, letting the woman with sleep ruffled hair in.

"What kept you!?" he demanded, stomping over to his wife.

"I-"

"Don't care! You will serve your king now," he ordered, jerking her robe open. Turning and pushing her, he ripped the robe away while she stumbled and fell over the chair. He bared his teeth as he heard a whimper.

"Serve your king," he commanded, reaching down to grab her arm.

_Morning:_

The air was crisp in the northern morning; Mulan was regretting wearing the grey spear wife clothes. It created an expectation in the present company.

The space the spear wives had commandeered for training recruits yesterday had been abandoned, and now they had moved to a flat area outside the tents. Mulan thought there were fewer recruits this time. But it may have been the formation.

Yesterday had reminded her of the training at camp. Today it was pairing off. A seasoned spear wife standing by a single recruit instructing her with words, by example, or even grabbing the girl to try and force a correct stance or motion. Oyunbileg sat back from it on a rock, apparently content to observe at this point.

Or had been; her one eye was now fixed on Mulan.

"Welcome back, Hachin," she said formally. Her eye was alight with certain eagerness, but her posture seemed wary. Mulan suppressed the urge for a deep breath; she could do this.

"I am sorry for storming out. I didn't realize what an honor you were offering," Mulan admitted.

"You know, you are a puzzling woman.

"Most women either adore me, ignore me, or openly dislike. But you, you're practically Choeten," Oyunbileg chuckled.

"Choeten?" Mulan asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, it seems like I keep upsetting you but we still get drawn together. You don't fit into any of those slots, just like her. I was thinking it might make you a friend.

"But I forget that you really do come from a different place. A very different place, so you probably just don't know what to make of me," Oyunbileg admitted.

'I know what that is like,' Mulan admitted to herself. Though of course, unlike her there was a place for Oyunbileg here even if it did come with some drawbacks.

"Anyway, about that tattoo?" Oyunbileg asked, smiling wide.

"Umm, he didn't exactly give me permission," Mulan grasped for that straw. She didn't want to offend this woman, but she wasn't going to bear a Hun mark for the rest of her life.

"He didn't, did he?" Oyunbileg remarked, narrowing her eye.

"I didn't really ask," Mulan admitted, rubbing her neck.

"Hmm, well-"

"Oh my, would you just look at this!" a familiar voice called out. A voice that was very out of place, Mulan thought as she turned with the chief spear wife to see the newcomer.

Make that newcomer_s_ – Khongordzol and her two hanger-on wives. The elegantly dressed women descended a small rise, slowly coming down to where Mulan and her friend were. The chief wife of the King looked around at the gathered women, who had stopped what they were doing to watch the trio.

"I must say you are more tactful than they say, my dear," the chief wife smiled at the one eyed woman. Stepping back from the conversation, Mulan found it fascinating the two women belonged to the same nation. Oyunbileg, while not ugly or unkempt, was only a little better maintained than careful men, and looked ready to fight. While Khongordzol was every bit the high born lady despite the foreign style.

"Why, thank you," Oyunbileg answered.

"So kind of you to move this little display out here where everyone doesn't have to witness your little games," the fancy woman smiled.

"Games? This is war we preparing them for," the spear wife frowned.

"War is best left for men. I heard you even admitted that yesterday. So if you are not fit for war, why waste time here?" Khongordzol asked with puzzlement.

"That isn't what I said-" Oyunbileg objected before being cut off.

"It's like men putting on dresses and cooking a fine meal. Simply unnatural. Oh, they could do it, I'm sure, with some effort. Just like you do this, with some effort.

"But it's just so… unpleasant, that you don't like being a woman," Khongordzol sighed, shaking her head.

"I am proud to be a woman," Oyunbileg snapped.

"Yet you reject everything it is to be a woman.

"Small wonder your husband is so cold, a hard boney wife barely warming his bed at night. And everyone knows this violent behavior withers the womb.

"After all, where mighty men produce string bountiful seed, you, the great female warrior, have only a single child for your husband.

"And there won't be anymore, either," one of the extra wives chimed.

"Now don't bring that up!" the other one chimed in.

"But then I suppose it came as a relief. Considering she sees motherhood as a burden for 'lesser women'."

"I heard a dreadful rumor she was grateful for the miscarriage."

"Hush now, naughty girls. The only thing that is certain is she won't be having any more," Khongordzol the chief wife scolded them.

Mulan couldn't help but look to the spear wife, and saw her hand was on the dagger in her belt, glaring at the women. Khongordzol smiled back, and turned her attention to Mulan.

"Your Majesty, it is kind of you to indulge the oddities of the wife of one of your husband's men. But surely you must realize your time as a wife is better spent…" the woman trailed off, sniffing the air. Mulan noticed the smoke before the other woman did.

"Fire!" one of the other wives screamed, pointing at the back of Khongordzol's dress, which was indeed on fire above the ground.

"Aaaaiiii!" the chief wife screamed, running forward and pulling the skirt up. The other two were also screaming, and not really helping, Mulan noted. Oyunbileg stepped back, eye wide at this bolt from the blue.

Mulan realized with no water around she would have to use the method Shang demonstrated as part of the cannon training – how to put out a panicking man on fire. Hopefully it worked on women.

Mulan sprang into action, running up to the screaming woman and knocking her feet out from under her with a sharp kick. Not letting the woman rise, she tore off the burning cloth, casting it aside and rolling the Hun in the grass.

'Oh right, grass, not dirt like in the exercise yard,' Mulan realized belatedly.

_Fwoompf_

_Shortly_:

"Well, thank you for your… assistance," the charred but apparently mostly unharmed Khongordzol remarked. She stood as straight as ever, though with her hair completely out of sorts and her dress ruined from grass, dirt and soot, it came off a bit ridiculous.

"That usually works better," Mulan apologized. She looked back at the patch of charred grass from the burning clothes and burning woman. She was lucky Huns seemed to be good at containing a grass fire.

"Well, I had best get back to my husband. Good day, ladies," she said. She turned to go, one of her fellow wives walked very close behind her, trying to conceal the distinct lack of clothes there.

Mulan watched them go with a forced smile, until Oyunbileg clapped her on the shoulder.

"You need to roll them more vigorously, and don't tear off burning stuff like that first. Wastes time," the spear wife chuckled. She turned to her students and subordinates, standing nearby.

"Okay ladies, that's enough for today," she told them. The women broke up into groups chatting, some laughing as they made their way back to the Ger. Oyunbileg squeezed her shoulder and gave her a wink.

"Ask Bataar," she ordered warmly. With no further elaboration, the warrior woman walked off, heading back on what looked to be a longer route than the others.

Feeling she was alone enough, Mulan glared around and spotted a tuft of grass taller than the others near her feet.

"Mushu," she growled. The dragon leapt up, showing the grass tied to his back, head, and limbs in clumps.

"Behold my new stealth technique! Soon to be proven falcon proof," the dragon cheered. Mulan pressed two fingers to her brow and took a breath.

"You want me to work with Unegan, why did you set his wife on fire?" Mulan demanded.

"Firstly, it's not like he doesn't have plenty more. Secondly, as hard as it might be for you to believe, having seen so much of my awesome, I have never exactly been Mr. Popular.

"Shocking, I know, I know. But it simply is so. And since it is so, I have more than a few times been subject to less than complimentary comments from people I could not exactly… deal with.

"So yeah, Unegan's our best bet, but this was a matter of principal. Hun and enemy didn't factor into it this time.

"Now if you will excuse me, I need to be everywhere at once, and nowhere at _allllll_!" Mushu declared. Resuming his position, it looked like a tuft of grass was scurrying over the ground. Mulan shook her head, and giggled into her hand.

**XXX**

"Augh, and I thought they smelled bad on the outside!" Qorchi blanched, putting a hand to his nose. Shirchin laughed at the reaction; reaching out, he finished the cut himself. The two Huns stood before a dead goat, hung up to be gutted, surrounded by tools for the trade in the slaughter area.

"You get used to it. A man needs to provide the hunt, and that includes preparing it for cooking, drying, and everything else," Shirchin told him. Qorchi wrinkled his nose as something fell out of the goat.

"You don't hunt goats," he pointed out.

"No, you learn with goats first. You're old enough to start helping with slaughtering your father's livestock," Shirchin corrected.

"Are we almost done?" Qorchi asked wearily. The man smiled down at him before answering, crossing his arms.

"Not even close, and you know it. Now, what's the next step?" the helmed Hun asked.

_Evening:_

"Would you care to repeat that?" Mulan demanded. She was sitting in the tent she shared with Bataar, actually sharing a meal from the nearby stove with the man. Apparently it was acceptable; she doubted he would withhold complaints. And he was eating the food. He took another bite and seemed to take his time chewing before answering.

It was nearly peaceful, with the sound of the stove fire and the rain on the tent.

'He's trying to irritate me by stalling,' Mulan thought with some exasperation.

"I said I would be willing to let you run with Oyunbileg's women," he repeated. He smiled at her; the look told her there was more.

"What's the catch?" she asked. Putting the food aside, he leaned forward, watching her.

"A number of things," he admitted shamelessly.

"Should I even bother to listen or just go and tell the spear wives you said no?" Mulan asked. She was wishing Mushu would pop up; this was feeling a bit tense. Oh who was she kidding? It was only a question of _how_ tense where Bataar was concerned.

"Listen of course; even if you say no, it's better to know what choices you had," he chuckled. Glaring at the big man, she gave a nod and made point of taking another bite of her meal. She had worked hard on it and was not going to let it go to waste.

"Firstly, unless you provide an heir you will not be riding off to war. That's more appearances than anything else.

"Secondly, since I know for a fact some hides will be stroked the wrong way by this. I want something in exchange, from you," he continued.

"I'm not sleeping with you," she told him sharply. He scowled at that and made a fist.

"I didn't force myself on you in the marriage Ger. Do you really think I would try and haggle for your maidenhood? Have I done anything to go against what I said to you that night?" Bataar demanded. Mulan flushed, embarrassed, seeing his point.

"Sorry," she said casting her eyes down. Two fingers flew to her mouth – she was shocked at the words, as if she had just cussed like Yao. Looking back up she could see he was surprised by the word too. Naturally it passed quickly and he resumed his arrogant demeanor.

"Well, moving on then. Thirdly, you will stop this clumsy plotting with Unegan. I may not know what he is thinking of doing with you, but I know you meet with him. And it's certainly not for his charming personality," the Shan-Yu stated.

"More charming than you. And not so resentful of my people either," Mulan pointed out. He raised an eyebrow at that.

"Do you really not see what he is?" Bataar inquired.

"I know what _you_ are; should I be surprised the only other member of your family left standing is bad news too?" Mulan smirked. It slipped when the warrior before her flinched. She almost apologized again; fear for her own father had driven her far. Losing her family entirely, it was hard to even imagine.

Bataar was speaking again, so she turned from her thoughts to pay attention.

"I suppose that's fair, but still you can either join Unegan or Oyunbileg, not both. She has endured much on my behalf, losing an eye and entering a political marriage to name two things. I won't have her take you as a friend and comrade, only for you to betray her," he answered.

"I have nothing against her," Mulan protested.

"She is one of my most trusted warriors, the one I left in charge of my tribe when the others rode to war with me, leader of the fighting women of this tribe. If I fall, she will either fall as well, or face exile. Men like Unegan look down on women more than most. The idea of a woman standing equal to them, with a warrior's pride… he wouldn't allow it.

"So if you pick him, I will have Choeten ensure you are no longer chummy with Oyunbileg, or her son. She'll take it at face value, and I will tell Oyunbileg you are conspiring with a man who she knows hates her," Bataar told her.

Mulan frowned at the thought. It was always about escape, or revenge on this man. Revenge not just for her abduction, but for all the innocents he slaughtered in China. She couldn't pretend she wanted revenge for Shang's father anymore. That man had been a soldier, and he should have done better protecting their people.

But what would happen to those women if Unegan came to power? Could he even come to power, or with Bataar gone would the Huns fight for the title? It would be a mess with another great chieftain already dead.

'They're Huns, what do I care?' she tried to tell herself. It wasn't a convincing argument. Time for a distraction.

"What was the second thing you wanted?" she asked. From his look she knew he spotted the dodge, but he shrugged and picked his plate back up.

"Some answers.

"I assumed when I first found the truth out about you… well, I assumed a great many things. But as time went on I wondered how a woman concealed herself in the Imperial Army. My initial assumption was you bribed men with your body to help you keep your secret," he informed her. She gagged at that; he smiled before continuing.

"Clearly that wasn't the case. I am guessing your guardian helped, but also the fact you are rather clever and adaptable," he said.

"I don't hear a question," she grumbled, face still red.

"War is dangerous, but it's practically suicide what you did. So why does a clever woman take such a foolish risk?" he asked her. Mulan was surprised that she wanted to answer him. Perhaps it was because of the insult he had made just now, or the fact that she might owe him something for not exploiting his power over her.

Maybe she just wanted to finally tell somebody?

"When you invaded, the Emperor sent officials into all the provinces to call up reserves. One man from each family was called to report to the levies," she told him. Bataar nodded; he probably knew about the Chinese military and how it worked to some degree.

"I am my father's only child, my brothers were born dead. And he had no brothers.

"It wasn't fair! Other families had plenty of young men to fight, some were even eager to go! My father had already served once; he served with distinction and commendation. He can't even walk without his cane anymore. And the Counselor just sneered when I spoke up on his behalf.

"Even my father…" she ranted, trailing off.

"You did this in public? Your father must be kind, or foolish, to not have beaten you for staining his Chinese honor," Bataar remarked. She glared at him, angry that she could feel the beginning of tears remembering that horrible day. It hadn't started out well either, but she would be raked over coals before she shared the matchmaker story with this man!

He seemed to think she had asked a question.

"I say foolish because even if he is patient and forgiving, he should have prepared you for a world that is neither. Especially for a Chinese woman. But continue," he told her.

"My father couldn't fight. For all his pride, I saw him try to practice the sword… he simply couldn't.

"I stole his letter of conscription, his sword, armor, and horse. I impersonated a man and fought in war so my father wouldn't have to throw his life away," she told him, passion coloring her words.

She looked at the man she was supposed call husband, not sure what she was looking for. He looked at her, rubbed his chin in thought, and leaned back.

"You might be clever, but you don't think things through very well, do you?" he sighed.

That she had not been expecting.

"What!? I had to save my father!" she protested his callousness.

"…Did you really think they would put a veteran up front with the green recruits? If the Han were so foolish as to waste experienced troops like that, China would not be such a problem for us.

"And if he is as distinguished as you make him out, he would probably have been given a small commission. Likely set to babysitting an officer too inexperienced or stupid to truly be trusted with his authority.

"If he couldn't fight, he probably would have ended up in a training camp helping likewise unqualified noble officers turn boys into fighting men. And if they did go into battle, he would have been on a horse, and you said he even had his own horse.

"You, on the other hand, as another green recruit were thrown into the front lines, to die with the other boys for the Emperor. Strange events aside, he would likely have been in less danger than you," Bataar explained.

Mulan realized her mouth was hanging open.

"Like I said, thinking things through," he shrugged. Closing her mouth, she took a breath and glared at him, though she didn't think it was working. She ended up speaking her mind.

"Are you saying I may have ruined my life, for nothing?" Mulan demanded.

"Well to be fair, I doubt your father would have pulled that cannon trick. But still, your reasons are hardly sound and no one, except Old Moon, saw that outcome coming. Honestly, I don't think anyone can know what might have happened," he continued. He wasn't rubbing it in too much; perhaps he was feeling a bit guilty of tilting her worldview?

'Probably not,' she hoped.

"Or he may have spotted your ambush, and then everything in the pass would have played out differently," Mulan objected.

"Hahaha, no. That ambush was perfect. We had the ideal position, and you right where we wanted you. And those blasted cannons wasted on men whose position gave them a decent chance of survival.

"But none of those archers did survive," she pointed out. The boys were good at blowing stuff, or people in this case, up. The geniality leaked out of his face at that.

Mulan caught another "sorry" before it escaped. They may have been his men, but they had been trying to kill her and her comrades. Not loyal comrades, but they had seemed loyal at the time. He pressed his own point in response to her silence.

"True, but still, without that luck, cleverness, magic or whatever it was, one man would not have made a difference," he insisted.

"That man would have," she insisted. She was not going to let him insult her father on again. First he called him a poisoner, now he dismissed him like he was nothing.

"No, there is only one Fa Zhu in China," Bataar waved the notion off. He picked up his plate, clearly intending to finish his meal.

"My name is Fa Mulan," she told him. He stopped and she kept talking.

"Fa Zhu is my father, and I stole your victory like he did you father's," she hissed.

_The Steppes:_

Altan looked into the campfire, and looked at the four warriors sitting around it. They looked tense; they should all be resting, but the anxiety filling the air made the idea of sleep seem absurd. They probably envied the lookout who had his rounds to busy himself.

"We leave as soon as the dawn breaks. The horses need the rest and the light," she told them. She didn't listen to her escort agree; the Queen's thoughts were of her last conversation with her husband.

_Altan sat before her daughter, the pale girl laid out before her, looking so very small. She had stripped Nara down to her underclothes in response to the fever. Some of the women told her they needed to wrap her up, help her body burn the illness out._

_She had the woman thrown out. Her sons too – she needed to focus. Her tent was luxurious, but alone with her silent child it felt like…_

_Persia, she thought, pursing her lips in distaste. There had been luxury there too, but also the ever-present knowledge that she was disposable, replaceable property. It had only been on the steppes that she had regained control of her life._

_The sound of the door opening sent her whirling, a snarl on her lips. It slipped away at the sight of her husband. Coyot looked at her, unreadable despite her years with him._

_It pleased her to pretend her husband was an open book to her as no one else, but it was just that, pretending. She could read him better than anyone, poke and prod him the way she wanted more than the others. But she could not help but think that in the end Cotyot did what he wanted and merely humored everyone else._

"_She has lost all her color now," he remarked, sitting down next to her._

"_Save those eyes," Altan said with a shiver. Silence stretched between them as they watched their daughter breathe and sweat before them._

"_I need you to leave," he told her. Wide eyed she turned on him, trying to understand what he just said._

"_What?!" she demanded, shocked at his words. He sighed and scratched at his stubble, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes._

"_Nara is not getting better. Six-Claws confirmed it before he died," Coyot answered._

"_Useless shaman," Altan grumbled._

"_Regardless, with him gone the tribe is fearful. No shaman means we are vulnerable to dark spirits. And even when a new one gets here, this evil killed one shaman._

"_They are growing to fear her," Coyot explained blandly._

"_What?" Altan demanded. What ridiculousness was this?_

"_Either she is missing her soul or she is connected to a powerful evil. The change in her body makes them think something will come through her flesh. Perhaps the evil that did this, or a wandering dark spirit._

"_The whispers have begun, that if her soul has moved on, her body should be sent after," he said, finally turning his head to face. Altan grabbed her daughter's hand in hers, wide eyed._

"_You would have seen this coming if you were thinking clearly," he scolded her._

"_My daughter's life is being threatened by dark spirits and our people, and you want me to think clearly?" she hissed._

"_Yes, that is exactly what I want. We do not aid her by letting fear drive us like the others._

"_What we need is help. You will go to the tribe of Bataar and bring Old Moon here – if any shaman can break the back of this evil, it is him," Coyot continued._

"_She needs me here, send someone else," she snapped. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, watching as she finally shed a tear._

"_No. You are doing nothing here but torture yourself. The men I can trust I need here to protect her. Besides, you are the only one other than myself I can trust to do whatever it takes to bring that shaman here._

"_I can't go, because if I do they will be more likely to do something foolish and even more afraid without a chieftain or shaman in this crisis._

"_It must be you. This is how you can save her," he told her._

"_Old Moon, he is not a man who can be commanded. What if he will not come?" Altan asked. Coyot frowned, his eyes hardening._

"_Then remind him the price of ingratitude, particularly to those who have paid you with long and exceptional service. And if need be, remind them who I am," he told her, his voice dropping and darkening._

The fire had burned down and the men were sleeping; Altan remained, staring into the receding flames as she stirred them anew.

"You'd better not be an ingrate, old man," she told the fire.

**XXX**

In war, Bataar had known moments of clarity. Those instants where everything became clear, often when he hadn't realized they were blurry to begin with. Politics had also yielded such moments. They either came at the brink of victory or the edge of disaster.

Such as when the puzzlingly bad aim of a single Han soldier had been revealed as a terrifying gambit. He remembered the look that boy/girl had been wearing as the mountain descended like a legendary ocean wave.

'I might lose, but you don't win either,' that look had said.

It all made sense. The Emperor had been in his palace like before, and General Li had fought them like before. But Fa Zhu had not appeared; where had the hero of China been? Bataar knew the man was not dead.

That man had been there after all, like Bharbo and Tianlinn were present, through his family.

What woman could be like this? Amongst such a people? Only one with the blood of a hero whose guile and reckless courage had trumped sheer might. Why else would she shine so bright to a shaman's eyes? A destined child of a destined man.

Searing pain struck his foot; the Shan-Yu kicked out, looking down as it struck something. He had sent the dragon flying. His boot had taken the meager flame, but it was starting to burn. The red burned back from his vision and he realized he was holding his wife off the floor, one hand around her wrist, the other squeezing her neck.

Face turning red she gasped, as she kicked impotently at him as she tried to pry his hand off.

Surprised at not noticing his own actions, he dropped her. She fell to the floor awkwardly, her wrist still in hand.

Coughing, she was prevented from falling to her back by his grip. She hacked something up, breathing hard. He let her jerk her hand free, and watched her scoot back from him.

Still breathing hard Hachin, Fa Mulan, put a hand to her neck and winced. Her dragon leapt in front of her, between the two of them, hands held like he meant to fight. Bataar's hands balled into fists, and then she glared at him.

The hate he expected, the anger was understandable, but there was more. Betrayal? What?

He turned as she moved, watching her, but did not take a step toward her. They kept each other's gazes held; he half expected the air to ignite at the intensity. He blinked in surprise when she slammed the door shut.

Too hard, it opened back up and he could see her quickly stumbling off into the deepening night.

The ground had been swept away without warning. He looked back to the unfinished dinner. Was it only an hour ago he had been thinking she could actually make a worthy mother of his heir? Wondering if there was a way she might consent to that honorably?

Fa Mulan. The blood of his enemy, the whole time. The "sun" that the man he had trusted, and forgiven for so many things, had told him would aid his cause.

He had been tricked, made a fool of.

**XXX**

In a dark tent Unegan sat, with his most precious treasure resting on his lap. Eyes closed against the light of the tiny soul the ghoul held in the palm of its hand, he waited.

At the sound of his brother's furious roar carrying over the camp, Unegan smiled, along with the ghoul.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well the secret is out to Bataar. Matters seem to be entering a spiral as we move closer to the climax as revelations and animosity converge.

Well, not too much to say, though I am glad to have finally written those revelations out like this. I have been planning that bit a long time. Hope it meets with your approval.

Long days and pleasant nights to you all.


	14. Treachery

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Mulan, a lawyer would probably tell us I don't even own the OCs.

_Betaed by_: Zim'sMostLoyalServant

* * *

**Treachery**

"Hail Bataar, Shan-Yu! The Viper's fangs have been broken!" Batu shouted somewhere. Bataar blinked, looking down at Burilegi, or rather his corpse. The massive man was clad in filthy hides and crowed with a helm fashioned from Tianlinn's own skull; the menace seemed a bit ridiculous with a sword jammed between the eyes.

As men hailed his name, Bataar planted a foot on the usurper's neck and pulled the sword free. Green fire sprang from the wound, and Bataar stepped back as the supernatural flames spread over the body.

He looked to where Shirchin had fallen, Gaitan trying to tend to the great wound on his chest. Good, that meant, for the moment at least, his comrade was alive. Turning away, the victorious young man looked upon the Hill of Eight Bears.

"What? But that's not… right?" Bataar muttered. Looking around, he saw he was alone, the chant of the warriors fading away, leaving only the cold winds and the crackling flames.

"What is this?" Bataar demanded, once more the veteran Shan-Yu.

"**This is a battle long over. Foolish boy**," a voice rumbled. Holding his sword at ready, Bataar turned on the fire. The body had burned away, only the skull of Burilegi remained, clean and unscorched as the strange flames danced around it.

"Do you haunt me?!" Bataar demanded.

"**Always.**"

"Begone," Bataar commanded, "I finished this long ago in the mist, with the very sword you stole from my father."

"**FINISHED? You have never been finished, boy. Ever since you foolishly returned you have pressed onward. Fool that you are; if only my own son had been half the monster you have become**," Burilegi chuckled.

"Enough, I'm not a shaman to heed the dead," the Shan-Yu spat.

"**Yet you can't ignore them, look beyond and despair, fool**!" the usurper laughed.

Beyond the light of the fire, the dead stood thick and fast. Chinese soldiers, Chinese peasants, Hun warriors, and people and warriors of other nations he recognized. Bataar stumbled back at the sight, nearly into the flames. Feeling them at his back he turned, pointing the sword at the skull.

He bared his teeth, looking at the sword; at least he had the blade of his brother and father. The sword he had taken back from his enemy on the battlefield and struck him down with.

"What have you brought against me!?" Bataar demanded.

"**Nothing, boy. They are yours, by your own hand or by your command you have made them yours. Look upon them and see!**" the dead man cackled. Bataar looked out on the dead, torn and mortally wounded, as they had been when they fell on the fields of battle and slaughter. General Li he spotted, and more and more as he looked on. He lifted his eyes to the Hill's top, empty of dead in the ring of sacred stones. A single figure stood looking down, silhouetted against a red sky.

He somehow knew this watcher was not dead.

"Who is that?" Bataar demanded.

"**The one you must reach, if you would escape the host of vengeance**," Burilegi answered.

"My enemy?" Bataar asked.

"**Perhaps. They are either your salvation or your doom.**

"**If you want the answer you must reach them! Go boy! If you can, if you DARE!**

"**HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA**!" Burilegi laughed as the skull cracked and shattered, its shards consumed by the fire.

The dead rushed forward, hands extended eyes rolling sightlessly. Bataar met them, sword swinging, cleaving flesh with practiced ease.

"Augghh!" he cried out as their blood hit him. It sizzled with heat like boiling water. They grabbed onto him, trying to drag him down. So he cut and punched and kicked at them with all the fury he could muster. Roaring his defiance to their moans he struggled uphill, as each corpse he battered or cut away was replaced by another.

"**HAHAHAHHAHHAHA!**"

Han soldiers seized both his arms, one a scout with an arrow in his back, the other a large man with no head. With a roar, Bataar threw them loose, stumbling forward into the press, hacking at the flesh and gritting his teeth as burning blood continued to strike him.

"**HAHAHHAAHAHA!**"

"Stop laughing, traitor!" Bataar roared. General Li caught Bataar's sword in his hands on the back swing. Roaring, Bataar turned on the dead man and shoved forward, stabbing the corpse deep in the belly. The General smiled and deliberately fell back, taking the sword with him as the hilt slipped through Bataar's blood slicked fingers.

He could only take one step toward the fallen enemy and blade before the dead filled the gap, reaching for him.

Turning back, he saw he had almost gained the summit; he could see the watcher clearer now, it wore Han armor and held a sword in hand. Realization struck him.

"Fa Zhu!" Bataar roared. He punched a dead man's head off and rushed upward, knocking aside the bodies pressing thicker around him.

"You're the only one left, aren't you?! Face me!" the Shan-Yu demanded. He was close, only another step to reach the safety of the stones-

Cold hands grabbed him from his hair to his ankles, a hairsbreadth from safety. With a jerk he fell forward as he was hauled back.

"**HAHAHAHAHAHAHA**!" Burilegi's laugh still sounded through the roaring of the flames. Struggling against the weight pressing him down, Bataar turned his head from the dirt, looking up to see the watcher looking down on him, sword raised.

It wasn't Fa Zhu.

"You," he whispered. Hachin/Maral/Mulan looked down on him, raising her sword, face blank as a mask.

Wolf eyes snapped open, and Bataar snatched the sword from its place at his side as he sprang to his feet. Sweating and panting, he looked around his tent.

"A dream," he growled, lowering the sword. He looked to the opposite side of the tent, where the signs of the woman he had called wife still lingered. His eye turned to the sword he held, her father's sword.

"You killed my brother," Bataar whispered to the sword. He could see his eyes in the steel, as if the sword was glaring back at him.

A knock came at the door. Relieved at an intrusion to put the dream behind him, he called out.

"Enter," The door opened with Ulaan standing in the doorway, quirking an eyebrow at his leader.

"What is it?" Bataar demanded.

"Queen Altan arrived just now. She was rudely hasty in seeing Old Moon. Oh, and your wife has apparently taken refuge in Unegan's tent," the archer reported.

"Well, this day is off to a fine start," Bataar smiled mirthlessly.

_China:_

The Emperor turned his back at the array of petitions, reports, and the woven map of his empire that dominated the wall. For now, his attention was needed elsewhere.

"My grandson, I am pleased to see you in good health," the Emperor bowed his head in polite respect. Though they were in a study, the Emperor seated before a desk rather than on a throne, Prince Long bowed deeply to him. The Emperor was pleased at the sign of respect, even with only Chifu here.

'Perhaps the boy is maturing at last,' the old ruler thought.

"Most honorable and royal Grandfather, I am pleased to return after the tensions of the invasion. I was loath to leave your side," Prince Long answered, rising. He looked much like his grandsire, though his hair was jet-black, his face young, and the beard graced little more than the point of his jaw, revealing a strong line.

'He has the imperial presence,' the Emperor noted, pleased. The prince sat and the conversation could truly begin.

"It was necessary – I could risk myself and even the city on General Li's might, but to risk my heir as well was too much," Emperor Feng reiterated his reasons.

"It would hardly have been an issue, had you heeded the General's advice, and let the barbarians come to us here, where we would be strongest," the prince remarked politely. The Emperor frowned.

"My selfishness let my people suffer once for my safety. Never again – the people are the empire, and they must be protected by their rulers," the Emperor answered.

"The empire is nothing without the Emperor. And if you would protect them, you should destroy their enemies while they are weak," Long answered evenly. The Emperor looked past Chifu to the map of the empire hanging on the wall. From the reports, he could imagine the conflicts marring it like a disease on the land itself.

A disease they were blessedly recovering from.

"Colonel Li reports success upon success. His only reservation seems to be the smooth return of the rebel peasants to the fold," the Emperor said. Long waved his hand, looking bored.

"A trivial matter," The Emperor restrained himself from scowling at that dismissal, "What matters is the back of the rebellion has been broken. We are also making progress in the west against the mountain raiders. The corsairs have never been a real threat either."

"Last I heard, those pirates had burned a fishing village to the ground."

"And the empire has many more such villages."

"What matters is we now know Shan-Yu Bataar is alive. How long before he returns to threaten the empire once more?" Long questioned.

"Heaven smiled on the Middle Kingdom by destroying his army. To complain about his survival is to be an ingrate to a miracle," the Emperor stated.

"Then we should finish what was started in the Pass. He is weak now, and he has a brother who I believe would be pliable to our cause. Now is the time to put aside petty matters and strike down the Huns," Long declared.

…

…

"Strike? Strike!? You would have us invade another nation while the Middle Kingdom still bleeds? Only a fool knocks down his neighbor's door while his own house is on fire!"

"If that neighbor set it on fire he should take care of him first to ensure he won't do it again! If you miss this opportunity, it will only be a matter of time before the Huns strike south again!"

"The Empire is wounded and exhausted. There is no point to victory if it destroys what you seek to protect!" the Emperor raised his voice, shocking the counselor.

"You were a conqueror once, grandfather," Long snapped.

"And I regret that my vanity almost cost my people everything. Leave my presence," he dismissed with a sharp gesture. The prince frowned but bowed to his sovereign. Once the door closed behind him the Emperor slumped, and took the teacup Chifu offered him.

"If only his father had lived. Sons should bury fathers, not the other way around," Feng lamented.

"Sire, it is the way of young men to test their boundaries. And it is good for an Emperor to be strong, yes?" the counselor assured him.

"Hmm, but boldness is no more strength than discretion is cowardice. Someday soon, that boy will be Emperor. And I am ashamed to say I fear what that will mean for the Middle Kingdom. The empire will need its counselors, men like you to help guide him into wisdom if he does not come into it in time," the Emperor told Chifu. The counselor bowed his head, smiling.

"Of course sire, we live to serve the throne," he said.

**XXX**

"What's going on?" Mulan asked. There was no one to answer; she could feel she was alone on this mist-shrouded grassland.

"How did I get here?" she wondered, lifting her hand to her brow. The motion sent her sleeve sliding down her arm. That was when she realized she was wearing the dress. The one Unegan had given her for the wedding.

"That's right, I went to Unegan's tent after… Bataar tried to kill me," she recalled. She rubbed her neck; that had been nearly as terrifying as an avalanche coming down on her.

"Still doesn't answer the question. Mushu? Cri-Kee?" she called out.

**Clunk Clank ClackThunk**

She heard wood hitting wood. Turning around, she listened for the sound – there it was again!

She ran towards it, almost tripping in the tight dress. She kept her feet and went toward the sound.

"Ahhh!" she called out as her foot failed to find ground. Falling backward, flat onto her back, she lifted her head and saw the mist pull back. She could hear voices below, and still that sound of wood.

Rolling over, she crawled to the ledge to try and see without being seen.

Below her on a patch of unobscured grass, two Hun children were fighting, or playing, with wooden swords. One boy had his hair pulled back in a loose braid, the other let his swing freely as they hacked and circled one another. She guessed them to be roughly ten years old.

Then the braided one gave a war cry, a hilariously pitched one, and charged. Mulan stifled a giggle at the sound, which turned to a frown as the other child cried out, dropping his sword. The attacker shoved his opponent onto their back and planted a foot on his stomach pointing the sword at his face.

"Yield," the victor commanded. Mulan's jaw dropped – the winner was a girl. She could see it clearly now, looking at her face as the girl smirked down at the boy. It seemed she was as easily fooled as men when she expected girls to be in dresses.

She looked at the boy, and saw his eyes. Wolf eyes, the Shan-Yu's eyes.

She pushed herself back away from the ledge.

"What is going on?" she demanded of anyone who might be listening.

"I yield," she heard the boy answer.

**Thwack**

"Ow! Hey, I said I yield!" the boy objected. Mulan rolled her eyes at Hun antics, and caught something at the edge of her eyes. Tilting her head, she saw it and gasped.

Something else stood on the ledge next to her. It stood like a man, but too tall, and wrapped in darkness that swirled around it like smoke. It started to turn its head slowly toward her.

"Idiot, that won't even bruise. If you lose a real fight you'll die," the girl shot back. Did she not see the monster!?

"You just like hitting me when I'm down Zaya! Now let me up!" the boy insisted.

Mulan pushed herself to her feet, or tried to. Her legs wouldn't spread; she fell back down, looking to see the cloth wrapped tight around her legs. Reaching down, she tried to grab the cloth only for the sleeves to fall over her hands, and knot themselves shut.

"What the?" she cursed.

Tugging at the knots through the fabric, she looked back to the monster. It stared down at her with glowing green eyes. She looked back, gritting her teeth, pushing down her fear despite her helplessness.

The shadows pulled back, revealing yellow teeth in a smile. It turned away from her, looking down. Toward the children.

This time, she couldn't push the fear back down.

"Ru-ggghhhhhack," Mulan's scream was cut off as her collar tightened on her throat. She felt the silk wrap tighter around her chest and stomach. It was ten times worse than the matchmaker day. She tried to suck in air even as the end of her sleeves tied themselves together and her legs were forced to bend at the knees.

The world was going dark, and she could only watch as the monster leapt down, towards the children.

"Mistress?" the word let her draw a ragged breath. Pushing the hand away, she grabbed the wrist and yanked the attacker off her feet. In the dark she found their neck and seized it under her elbow.

The monster made a very human gagging sound. And Mulan really looked in the faint lamplight.

"Solongo!" she cried, horrified. She released the woman as if the touch burned. Unegan's cook wife gagged again, touching her neck as she scooted back. They were in a small canvas chamber of the King of the Left's tent, the walls hidden behind Chinese screens depicting palaces and cities in stunning landscapes.

The lamp sat by the flap entryway, obviously set aside by her visitor.

"I am so sorry," Mulan apologized. Trying to sit up she felt legs tangled tight in the ornate blanket. The feeling made her lurch back towards the nightmare for a moment. She tore it away, actually relishing the tearing sound before kicking the bedding away.

Free, she reached out to comfort the scared woman, only for the Hun to flinch away.

"It's alright, my lady! I should have just left the tray for you!" Solongo apologized, bowing her head. Mulan noticed a steaming tray of food by the lamp.

"I… had a nightmare. Please let me check you, make sure I didn't-" Mulan said, kneeling down in front of the other woman. The other woman stood up and walked backwards towards the flap quickly.

"No, I should not have disturbed you. Please enjoy your breakfast. You have freedom of the tent; if you want anything you need only ask the lesser wives. His Majesty my husband advises you to remain here until he returns to speak and plan with you. He left you a change of clothes," Solongo told her, never lifting her eyes from the floor.

She was gone before Mulan could say another word. Mulan sighed, placing herself by the array and selecting her first bite. It was good, the warmth eating away the chill from that horrible dream. Taking the time to look at the screens, her eyes fell on a low table. Her change in clothes was laid out on it.

Caspar's fine Chinese dress.

**XXX**

"So in other words, your answer is no," Altan stated. She sat in Old Moon's tent, ignoring the strangeness to focus on the little old man sitting across from her.

"It's not that I don't want to help, Altan. But I cannot leave now," he insisted, rubbing his very wrinkled brow. The light haired Hun pressed her lips into a line. Sighing, Old Moon spoke.

"I know you are upset-"

"Oh, this betrayal does not begin to get covered with upset," she snapped. The words were not hot; they were cold. Old Moon frowned, placing his hands in his lap.

"I betray nothing. I can't go because I am the Shan-Yu's shaman and I sense I will be needed here soon," he told her.

"Your tribe is not being haunted by a wicked spirit, a child is not being threatened here. You owe our family a debt for supporting Bataar when he needed it most. Whatever you call it, if you don't aid us now, it is a betrayal.

"And you know what my husband is when he is stirred. But also remember what I am," she warned him leaning forward.

"A foreigner with different knowledge and perspectives?" Old Moon asked warily.

"A mother, with a child in danger. Reconsider quickly, old man," she told him. Old Moon scowled as she stood up.

"Threats will not aid little Nara," the shaman told her.

"Then consider it a promise," she told him. When the entry closed behind her, Old Moon let the scowl slip and took a deep breath.

"Too quick, too little time. The evil is hidden, if I don't find it first…" he whispered.

**XXX**

Lassluun looked to the skies as Shirchin caught up with him. The two were walking through the Ger, by the unofficial border between the two tribes' tents. Shirchin frowned, sticking a finger under his helm to scratch at his scalp.

"So what's this business you wanted my help with?" Shirchin asked. Lassluun lowered his gaze and considered his comrade for a moment.

"Right in here," the other Hun said, gesturing to an unremarkable tent. It didn't even have a door, just a flap. Shirchin pulled the flap up, walking in; Lasuluun made to follow, but stopped, instead turning to stand casually next to the entrance.

Shirchin stopped inside the box filled tent, seeing the sole occupant.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I just wanted to talk to you in private," Unegan said. The handsome king leaned back slightly from where he sat on a chest.

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," the warrior retorted. He turned to go as the royal spoke.

"He's not who you think he is. At least not anymore," Unegan said. Shirchin stopped and turned enough to watch the fix prince with one eye.

"What are you talking about?" Shirchin demanded.

"You follow the strong, the mighty, and so you have followed Bataar. But can you still believe he is the strongest, having been defeated by a mere woman-"

"Lasuluun, he told you that?" Shirchin demanded, hand flying to his sword.

"He saw what you are denying, that Bataar is no longer fit to lead the Huns."

"Nonsense," Shirchin spat.

"You're not a fool, you can see what has happened.

"First he leads his army to defeat. Then he shows mercy to the one responsible for his defeat. He lets an old man force him into a marriage, and doesn't even break that enemy in the marriage bed.

"You have been faithful, but he has not kept that faith. He betrays the memory of your comrades by letting their slayer worm her way into the tribe, and through him the whole confederation. He hasn't even bedded her, her hold is that strong."

"That's a lie!" Shirchin objected.

"No, it isn't. He has become weak. If he weren't, wouldn't he have dragged an errant wife back from my tent like a true man?" Unegan pressed.

"…What are you doing, exactly?" Shirchin asked finally.

"Extending an offer, as I have with Lasluun. He told me you were a man who could be counted on," unegan answered smoothly.

"Treason, you are planning to grab for the mantle," Shirchin realized.

"Shhh. One must speak cautiously. But you should know, unlike Bataar, I reward my men well for loyalty."

"Bataar has not-" the warrior objected.

"You nearly died defending him from my father at the Battle of Mists. And you came back from the edge of death to find your woman had been given to someone else. She was weak, it was to be expected, but he should have interceded on your behalf. Instead the woman, and the son, have been given to a man who doesn't care for either," Unegan smiled. Shirchin faced him fully, now, hand still on the hilt.

"I can offer what should have been yours. It's not stealing when the prize is already your due. I offer you that and much more," Unegan whispered across the room.

**XXX**

"A foolish question, I expected better from you, Lady," Bataar said. He stood in the corral, brushing down his stallion with a steady hand. Altan stood behind him, arms crossed and looking quite displeased.

"He is your shaman, command him to save my daughter," she told him.

"You lack your usual tact. You know better than to order me. And as a shaman, he is outside my authority. I can give him orders and make demands, but normal men cannot compel those who speak with the ancestors and spirits. Not even a Shan-Yu. And as the most distinguished shaman, even his own kind can't order him," Bataar reminded her.

"Tch, I sometimes forget how you Huns let your priests run rampant. Where I came from, royals executed priests that displeased them," she sneered.

"'You' Huns. Whatever you once were, you are one of us now, insulting yourself makes you look like a fool," he laughed mirthlessly.

"This is no game Bataar," Altan reminded him.

"I know Coyot – you expect me to believe he will go to war? For one daughter, placing all his other children in harms way? He is too reasonable for such madness, and it would be a lot of work for him besides," Bataar said. He turned to face her now, and was surprised to see her expression. It wasn't angry now; she looked… sad?

"Of course you wouldn't understand, would you? You lost your family too young, and I hear Tianlinn hardly bothered with you and the other little ones.

"Understand this, what you know about my husband is true. But it is also true there is more than that. With all men save the worst, they change when you put that firstborn child in their arms. They may not endure birth or carry the child, but men are still affected by becoming fathers.

"It changes things, sometimes a little, or sometimes a great deal. It can't be understood by the ignorant, but you would do well to fear it," she told him. She left him there a bit stunned, and oddly feeling at loss of what to do.

He shook his head a bit, clearing it. Turning back to the horse, he resumed the grooming. It hardly mattered – even if that was true, he would deal with it when the time came.

But surely it would not come to that?

**XXX**

"Is it true?" Qorchi asked. The Hun family was gathered in their tent, something cooking in a pot. Ulaan lay on the men's side, looking up at the ceiling, while his wife sat on her side, mending a tunic meticulously. Her son stood beside her; she glanced up from her work at him.

"Is what true?" she asked.

"The other kids say there's a curse. That's why Old Barrago's family is fighting, and now King Coyot's daughter is dying.

"They say tings are going to get worse, because the Shan-Yu angered the spirits," Qorchi told her. She smiled at him before answering.

"We Huns are warriors; every once in a while we fight each other, too. Soon enough they'll come to their senses or someone will knock their heads together. And the girl is sick, not dying," she told him.

"What if things do get worse? Will we go war again?" he asked.

"Bataar is strong, no one would dare threaten him here," Oyunbileg told him. The boy smiled, and the man scoffed. Ulaan sat up and gave his wife an irritated look.

"Strength is no assurance of safety. I don't know if this is some curse but these events leave us vulnerable. Especially with Bataar sending off warriors east and west to try and clean things up.

"This is probably the most dangerous situation the tribe has been in since the Battle of Mists," Ulaan said. Qorchi gulped and Oyunbileg frowned as she set aside the tunic and thread.

"Really?" she demanded.

"You do him no favors by lying. Especially a comforting lie," he told her. Her eye narrowed and Qorchi backed up, away from his parents.

"And scaring him helps? He's only a boy," she responded.

"Boys become men, the sooner the better in this world," he answered evenly.

"Well I know one man who can find his dinner elsewhere," she told him, crossing her arms. Rolling his eyes, Ulaan got up, grabbing his bow and quiver from their spot by the door. He stopped to look back at his wife.

"You know I'm right," he told her. She didn't answer and he turned and left through the door, closing it behind him.

"He'll be back once he realizes he will have to knock on someone else's door in this cold," Oyunbileg smiled. She gave her son a wink; the smile he gave her… even she could tell it wasn't real.

"It will be alright," she told him. Getting up, she went over to the stove and lifted the lid to check on dinner.

"They also said Maral and the Shan-Yu had a fight, and she's staying at the King's tent now," Qorchi said. Oyunbileg put the lid back in place before answering.

"That's nothing, couples fight. I just kicked your father out for a bit," Oyunbileg told him.

'That's true, but what woman would run to that man's tent? She's a smart girl, isn't she? What aren't you telling me, Ulaan?' she wondered. A knock came at the door, and her face light up with a smile. She turned to her son, showing the look off.

"What did I tell you – he comes crawling back already. Doesn't have the social nerve to knock and ask for dinner from someone else," she snickered. She opened the door and was surprised to find a figure filling it far more than she expected.

"Shirchin?" she asked. She stopped aside, letting the Hun warrior in. He took off his helmet as he looked around, scratching at the short-cropped dark hair under it. Not a good sign, she thought.

"What are you doing here? Ulaan stepped out," she told him.

"Oh, he did?" Shirchin said. Looking around, he saw the archer was indeed missing.

"Well, I just wanted to check on you, both of you," he said. Oyunbileg frowned, stepping around him and back to the dinner in the works. Qorchi stepped up to the big Hun and asked a question.

"Is it true. Is it dangerous?" he asked the adult. Shirchin looked down at the boy, and knelled to look him in the face.

"Yes, but you don't need to worry. I won't let anything bad happen to you or your mother," he said softly.

"What about father?" he asked. He tilted his head at the slight grimace, but his mother didn't see it at all, concluding dinner was ready. She answered the question for Shirchin as she took the food from the heat.

"Your father can take care of himself. And so can I, for that matter. But for being a proper man, I think you deserve a little reward. Someone should enjoy Ulaan's portion even if he is too proud to take it," Oyunbileg said. She started to set out the food as her son took his usual place, Shirchin watching them both. Closing his eyes, he nodded his head slightly.

"Yes," he whispered. Moving away from the door he bent to help the spear wife set out dinner.

**XXX**

Mulan shifted, trying to get comfortable at the table.

'This shouldn't be so difficult,' she thought, irritated. She was sitting on a proper cushion before a table that held a fine Chinese dinner, wearing the Chinese dress. She carefully selected a bit and raised it to her mouth. In addition to the dress, her host had one of his wives apply make up; he insisted she have the best in light of her distressing treatment at his brother's hands.

'Does he think getting your face painted is comfortable?' Mulan wondered. She ate the morsel carefully; she had a feeling smudging the make up would be a bad idea. Unegan sat across from her, watching her more than eating his own meal.

Mushu's light weight on her shoulders was a comfort at least; the dragon was insistent he be on hand where any Hun was concerned. She could feel Cri-Kee in her hair too. His movement was reassuring; the cold was not agreeing with the little bug at all, despite the brave face he was putting on.

'At least the make up on my neck covers the bruises,' she thought bitterly. Unegan answered the frown with one of his own.

"Everything to your liking?" he asked gently.

"Oh yes, it's all lovely, I can't believe you can do all this on the steppes.

"I was just thinking about Ba- the Shan-Yu," she told him.

"Yes, of course, he would bring a frown to any proper lady's face. Let's keep him out of here tonight; there doesn't need to be anyone else here but us," he smiled. She felt Mushu's tail wrap lightly around her neck as Unegan sipped his rice wine.

"Well, are you certain your plan will work?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't it work?" Unegan demanded.

"Well, you seem to really need me and Altan for it to go like you want. And, well, we are both foreigners. And, the Shan-Yu is very strong," she told him.

"Bataar may have great strength, but his way with people is where his power comes from. Fate and his own pride have stripped him of even more of that than he realizes.

"As for you and the other. Being foreigners should be a credit to you, not a vice. What have the Huns ever achieved worthy of remembering, I ask you?

"All they are good for is destroying, and stealing the work of better races. You were blessed to be born to the most blessed nation under the heavens, Mulan," he breathed her name.

'I shouldn't have told him that,' Mulan thought mournfully. Unegan got up from his seat and walked around the table. He was dressed in Chinese finery; it looked bizarre with his Hun face on top of it. She couldn't help but think of Bataar at the wedding – the finery had been strange, but it had suited the strange place. All of this, just like the dress that felt too tight, seemed wrong in a way she couldn't quite define.

Mushu's tail tightening on her neck slightly made her tense up; that hurt. Grabbing the dragon, she pulled him off and lightly tossed him down with her free hand. Only to realize why he had tensed, when Unegan put his fingertips under her chin.

When had he gotten so close?! And why weren't any of his wives here this time? Her eyes were wide as she was made to look up into his smiling face.

"You are beautiful. No woman of this hard, savage, land could ever match your beauty, your elegance," he told her. Well, that was a compliment she had never gotten before. She wasn't sure whether she was reddening in blush or in response to the very uninvited touch.

Hun women…

"What will happen to Oyunbileg, Choeten, and the others? When you become Shan-Yu?" Mulan asked. His fingers jerked, grabbing her jaw for a moment as his nostrils flared.

Then the hand was pulling away and he was smiling again. He stepped back and walked around the table to his own spot. Sitting down, he picked up his chopsticks and took a few bites in silence. Finally, as she watched him, he pointed at her with his chopsticks.

"You need not worry. You're too beautiful to concern yourself with petty details. Trust me, and we will get what we have always deserved," he told her warmly. As the Hun King took a long draw of the wine, she exchanged a look with Mushu. For her, being where he had wanted her to be, he didn't look happy.

'He's right though, it doesn't matter. I'm going home," she told herself. Still, the meal passed in silence broken only by pleasantries that rang empty. The best part was when the chief wife she had been resenting so recently came to escort her to her room.

**XXX**

Bataar stood on a stone littered hilltop, looking out on the steppes under the light of the half moon. The wind had died down even at the height; the night was still, and cold. The Shan-Yu did not turn at the sounds of someone's approach – he knew the sounds of these shambling steps well enough.

Then the steps stopped, and Bataar spoke.

"You lied to me," he told the shaman.

"You never asked whose daughter she was," Old Moon pointed out. The Shan-Yu turned to face the old man, his eyes bright in the dark.

"Then you did know. From the beginning?" Bataar asked.

"No, it came together piece by piece. The object of your obsession had to be tied to the means of your redemption," Old Moon answered calmly.

"Fa Zhu's child. His only child – you kept my vengeance from me. Would you have let me perpetuate his bloodline, mingling my father's blood with his, like a fool?" Bataar demanded. Old Moon looked at him coldly, seeing and blind eye both boring into golden ones.

"Is it true you tried to kill her?" Old Moon asked.

"Yes," Bataar answered. He barely blocked the staff from hitting his face. But the shaman was behind him then, and struck in the back of the knee, sending him to kneeling hard. Old Moon struck him over the head, the wood rapping hard in his skull.

"Savage! You are blessed with a thread of salvation and you would rip it apart!?" Old Moon screamed, raising the staff to hit him again. It came down in the palm of Bataar's hand. Standing, the Shan-Yu jerked the staff out of the shaman's grip, sending him falling to the ground. Bataar tossed it away and looked down on the old man.

Old Moon propped himself up on an elbow and glared up at the Shan-Yu.

"I sent you to your death. You know that, but you haven't really thought in it, have you? I raised you as best I could, you are the closest thing I have ever had to a son, and I could not deny you had earned the fate I saw for you!

"I remember in the north, the day Zaya died. You sensed it, you knew even before I told you. It broke my heart to see that light leave your eyes. And when you returned with a heart full of hate, I was frightened for you.

"When you spared Unegan, and so many who followed Burilegi, I thought you had come through the darkness. But you were only moving on to your next target in your vengeance," Old Moon snarled.

"Sparing Unegan was a mistake," Bataar interrupted.

"No! It was not! He may have squandered your mercy, but on that day he did not deserve to die. Mercy and honor, they are not weaknesses! They are the gift of the strong to the weak. They burn away the edges of the darkness that would swallow the world," Old Moon insisted.

"Honor, mercy, you should know better! Bharbo's honor saw him dead, his mercy let Fa Zhu live to turn the tide at the Imperial City!" Bataar roared.

"Fa Zhu's lack of honor does not mean Bharbo's honor was misplaced. The test of honor is when it faces the dishonorable."

"You think my family was with his honor?!"

"They were my family too you brat!"

"…"

"There was no blood between us, but I lived with them, served them long before you were born. I held Tianlinn the day he was born and tried to learn of his future. Same for Burilegi and the other children of their father and his brothers.

"I watched generations grow from babes at their mothers' breasts, to being laid in their graves from war, disease, or age. And I lived to see all that be torn away, by a boy who I had once encouraged to rise from the sorrow his brother's shadow cast him in.

"Do you think a day passes when I don't wonder what else I could have done? If there wasn't something, anything, I might have done to stop that horrible night? Or to even keep that lonely child from becoming a man so consumed by ambition he would do such a thing?!

"You know nothing of grief! I have outlived more friends and kin than you have met people in your life!

"But unlike you, I moved on! I mourn the dead, and get up to serve the living. I didn't want you to avenge the dead. I wanted you to seek justice, to free the living and secure a future free from his madness.

"And now I look at you, the boy named 'hero'. And I see so much of the very men you hate in you. Burilegi, brutal and thoughtlessly cruel to those he deems enemies; and Fa Zhu, without honor," Old Moon finished.

Bataar gritted his teeth, with a straining sound in his jaw. He turned away, and kicked a rock clear out of the soil sending dirt flying.

"You… may live, if you do not oppose me. But you do so as the shaman of this tribe, that and nothing more. Things will no longer be as they were," Bataar whispered. Old Moon lowered his brow to dying grass, not watching the ruler walk away.

"Failure. I don't ask your forgiveness Zaya, I deserve whatever punishment comes," Old Moon whispered to the night and land.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Three more chapters to go. Next chapter will be a bit. I want to update DX and take a little break from this story. That chapter is already approximately half done, so it should not take long. However, I also leave on vacation on the sixth, and I won't be writing during that time._

_Still we may see this story wrapped up inside July!_

_Hope it stays appealing in the final stretch._

_Long days and pleasant nights to you all!_


	15. Betrayal

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Mulan.

_Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant_

* * *

**Betrayal**

"I do not think this is a good idea," Ulaan stated. He stood with Shirchin and Lasuluun to either side, facing his ruler. Bataar sat atop his stallion, the twins also ahorse on their mounts with a small band of hunters.

"No, but there are no good choices at the moment. I need distance from them all to think clearly," Bataar admitted. Ulaan frowned, glancing toward the vague shape of Unegan's sprawling tent. Bataar followed the archer's attention.

"He is still a coward, no number of advantages matter so long as he is too afraid to act," Bataar said.

"So you believe he still fears you? Even as your own wife hides in his ger with impunity?" Lasuluun demanded.

"Yes, we will return in two days time. You have the Ger until I return Ulaan," Bataar ordered. Without anther word, he turned his horse and kicked it into the gallop. The hunting party rode off after him in the early light.

Ulaan turned away from the departing riders to the two who remained.

"Keep an eye on Unegan and his men. To fear the sword requires a wisdom the King of the Left may have lost," the archer commanded. The two Huns nodded, and Ulaan departed back into the Ger, leaving the two to exchange glances.

**XXX**

Mulan was brushing her hair when Unegan entered her room. There was little else to do, confined in this tent with Unegan's wives avoiding her. And with the King himself hardly desirable company, here she had remained for the most part.

'I'm not hiding, I just don't want to make a mistake that will ruin this,' she had told herself dozens of times.

It was hardly surprising when he entered unannounced. For all his claims of civilization, he seemed little more than self-entitled.

"Good news," he told her. The smile was nicer than most she had seen from him, nothing lurking behind it. He gestured for her to follow, stepping back from the doorway. Setting aside the brush, she got to her feet and walked past him. He offered a hand; after a moment's hesitation she took it.

'Don't offend the key to freedom,' she reminded herself. Fortunately, he did not hold her hand long in his slightly too tight grip, he let it go letting her follow him into another small chamber of the tent.

She stopped, surprised at who was waiting there. Shirchin and Lasuluun looked back at her, seeming to be just as shocked.

"Why is she here?" Lasuluun demanded. Unegan smiled and fiddled with the chain wrapped around his waist like a belt. Mulan had not noticed he was wearing it. The exotic weapon she had heard about, the wind scythe.

Apparently he was nervous enough to don a more barbaric appearance here.

"She has a part to play in our plan, my dear friends. Indeed, she will allow us to not only end Bataar's reign, but destroy him so that I will become Shan-Yu with no need for a war of consolidation," Unegan announced.

"Impossible, Coyot will never join a realm with you leading it," Shirchin objected.

"He will when his chief wife pledges his loyalty before everyone, over Bataar's dead body."

"Are we trusting this task to women?" Lasuluun demanded. Unegan gave him a stern look.

"You imply I do not have them under control. I assure you, I do." Unegan cupped Mulan's chin making her look at the two men.

"If you require proof I will provide it. But this is not the time or place. And it's time you three learned what I will need of you," Unegan grinned. His hand moved from under her chin to covering her right shoulder.

Before Shang's training she would have swatted or shuddered him off. But she had enough control now to do neither. It helped to focus on his plans for the downfall of the Shan-Yu.

'He deserves it, they all do,' she told herself.

The mantra did not stop her eyes from finding the floor and staying there. She thought of her father, and kept thinking of him as Unegan lead her back to the room with the brush. At some point she thought Mushu showed up to talk with her, se didn't notice. She was brushing her hair.

**XXX**

Three quick knocks rapped against Ulaan's door. He didn't have to look to his wife to know she had already seized the nearest spear. Pulling the dagger from her belt, he noted where his bow hung and opened the door.

Shirchin filled it, a muster of what warriors remained behind him, with Lasuluun as well.

"What is happening?" Ulaan demanded. Shirchin frowned and remained silent. Lasuluun stepped up and spoke.

"Unegan has called the warriors on ride back, he is mustering his forces in front of his tent. He gave no word of this to anyone," Lasuluun reported. Ulaan closed his eyes; the implications spoke for themselves.

'Curse it Bataar, you gave him an opening,' Ulaan told himself with as much vigor as he could manage. Still, the Ger was his – he had a duty to perform.

"Shirchin, take the women and children out, you know what to do," Ulaan ordered.

"You should take as many men as you can, let all the spear wives come with me," Shirchin finally spoke up. Ulaan paused for a second and nodded before turning his attention to Lasuluun.

"We are going to parley in force – he may back down at a show of force, matters are not beyond a peaceful resolution. And if not, kill him and this rebellion or whatever it is dies, no matter how many swords and spears remain under his banner."

"Hardly clever, but bold enough I suppose," Lasuluun conceded. Ulaan had to agree, at least he knew Shirchin would keep the others safe, or die trying.

'Bataar…'

**XXX**

Unegan stood before his tent, the sound of hammers upon wood and nails filling the air. Crossing his arms he smiled, watching as the slaves erected the wood platform under his eyes. Wood, something so common in more civil lands, was precious here. Standing atop it in such a decadent manner would send a message even his savage kinsmen would understand. The murmur in his ranks alerted him to the arrival.

The King knew Bataar did not think much of his own warriors, and he sadly had to agree somewhat as he turned to watch events unfold. A step back and up onto part of the wood left him balancing and looking over the crowd. His own men had been at ease despite being mustered.

If he were not here he could see the dice and skins having already come out. Killers and rapers most certainly, but their discipline sprang from his coffers and fear of the blade around his chest.

Bataar's few moved in disciplined step through the crowd. It seemed only natural for them to part, even without orders. His men were bloodthirsty, these men were ready to fight, he could read it in how they held themselves, sizing up the mob of warriors around them.

"Why don't I have men like this?" he whispered to himself.

"King Unegan, why have you gathered your warriors without reason in the heart of the Ger? This is disrespectful to your place as a guest, even more so with your host absent," Ulaan spoke up. The archer had been at the front of the knot of men, and he stood out now, bow held ready, an arrow notched.

Most men would be called foolish to use a bow in close quarters, but this was Ulaan here before him. That fact made Unegan hesitate before he spoke, but speak he did.

"These men are gathered for a noble purpose, and you are more than welcome to join them, all of you," Unegan announced. Unegan's men cheered, and Ulaan's frown deepened. At his nod, Lasuluun stepped up close behind, his sword drawn. The archer seemed emboldened by the comrade at his back.

"The removal of Bataar from the mantle, for he is no longer worthy to be called Shan-Yu!" Unegan proclaimed.

**Ping**

Unegan choked back the cry as his blade deflected the arrow. As it was, he stumbled off the wood, and might have fallen onto his back had a slave not been behind him. The collision let him right himself in time to see it happen, before even Ulaan could draw another arrow..

Ulaan was famously stoic, it made his wide eyed surprise all the sweeter to Unegan.

"What?! WHAT?!" Ulaan gasped. Bow crackling in his grip, he lowered his free hand to graze the bloody blade, sticking out below his chest. Blood dribbled from his mouth as Lasuluun leaned in to speak into his ear.

"Take it as a compliment. I knew your loyalty knew no reasoning, goodbye archer," the sour faced man said. Twisting the blade, he pulled it free in a powerful jerk, pushing the archer down.

Ulaan the archer fell forward, hitting the ground with a stumble. Bow still gripped in one hand, he pushed himself off the ground nearly a hand width, blood spreading across the grass from his wound. Unegan's boot came down on the back of his head, forcing him down on the trampled grass.

Unegan felt the insignificant struggling grow weaker as Lasuluun backed off from the stunned men he had come with. Smiling, Unegan used the words he had been saving.

"The time has come for change. You can fight or die for the man who isn't even here to lead you, but know this. Shirchin is delivering the others to the rest of my men and Queen Altan. Any widow made by resisting me here will become spoils for my loyal men to share, any orphans, slaves."

Holding the wind scythe up he watched in awe of himself as the warriors of his brother glared at him oh so carefully, and let their steel fall to the grass.

"Glorious," he whispered, stepping onto the small man's corpse to stand taller.

_Later:_

Shirchin held up a hand, the men behind him halting. He glanced back, and couldn't help compare Unegan's men to the warriors he had fought with over his life. Not the worse by a long shot, but they wouldn't have been his first pick. A certain eagerness for bloodshed was good in a warrior, it was their trade after all. But…

He shook the doubts from his head and left the men standing there to focus on his goal.

This tent had been part of the Ger he called home as long as he had. Far longer, if you counted the times before the Night of Daggers. The thought of that event chilled him. The cure for such chills he had found were actions, so he pushed down the anxiety to close the distance between himself and the tent.

"Old Moon," he called through the flap.

"…I have been expecting you," the shaman's voice came out.

"King Unegan has summoned you," Shirchin told him. He worked his tongue in his mouth, finding it dry.

"Send him in, I could show him things in the smoke. Such sights for such a man, eh?" the old man cackled out of sight.

"It doesn't work like that. You need to come with me, now," Shirchin pressed. It took more effort than he was willing to admit, to not step back when the flap was pulled aside. This was the man who had raised the mist on the day Burilegi fell, the greatest living spirit man on the steppes.

Yet in the light of day he managed to look like a hunched old man, one eye useless, the other on its way to joining it.

"Your herb pouches please, orders from the King," Shirchin said, holding out his hand to the elder. Old Moon looked past him, to the still Ger.

"King? Isn't he calling himself Shan-Yu yet?" Old Moon asked. Shirchin gave him no answer; the shaman stared at the outstretched hand.

"I saw you from afar, Shirchin. In the north I found a tree, young but strong, still growing like the prince I had saved. When he demanded to know when he would be ready to return to avenge his family, I told him it would be the day he could pull that tree from the earth with his own two hands.

"When that day came he was all too eager too leave, leaving me behind to follow after him. I took wood from that tree he had struggled with for all those years and burned it to glimpse his future. I saw all of you, all of you by his side.

"Your strengths and weaknesses glimpsed. I saw you then and I see you now, you are better than your actions. Better than your choices – do not throw away what is real for the promises of what is not and can never be, both of you," Old Moon whispered. Shirchin could hear him clearly enough, and knew the men at his back couldn't.

His hand closed into a fist, and opened back up, for the herb pouch.

"Maybe, but it too late to change my course," Shirchin answered.

"Young fool, what do you know about too late?" Old Moon spat. Ripping the cord holding his pouches in place off, he tossed the line to Shirchin. Shirchin grunted as the guards advanced to surround them. The helmed warrior glanced to Old Moon's staff. The shaman clutched it with both hands, leaning heavily on it.

"Surely, you would not deny an old man his walking stick?" the shaman asked. Shirchin hesitated before looking to the warriors he had brought.

"Leave the stick. But watch him closely, he must not speak with any of the others until Bataar returns," Shirchin ordered. He left, a bit quicker than was necessary. Old Moon did not watch him go as the guards boxed him in. He shared a little smile with himself, tugging at the thin cord around his neck, which disappeared beneath his tunic.

**XXX**

Unegan leaned against the doorway, watching the proceedings with disinterest. He frowned at the sound of tearing cloth and decided to speak up.

"So, this will do for now?" he demanded. Lasuluun gave him a nod without turning his attention from the woman he had pinned. Odgerel looked to Unegan with wide eyes, he returned the look with irritated boredom.

"I will hold you to that. And leave her face, I don't want another Dalan," he ordered. He closed the door on them, and stepping back gave himself a shake. Shirchin was the better catch he had decided, something about the swordsman struck uncomfortably close. Such a savage.

Tucking his hands behind his back, he walked down the cloth corridor, not noticing the low-lying shadow, swerving along behind him.

Mushu stopped in front of the door, hearing a muffled cry followed by a muffled sound of someone getting hit. The dragon cringed, but turned his attention back to Unegan, skittering after him.

Unegan ignored the guard at the next door. Mushu paused at the entrance, torn between investigating, and what he had seen. Worry over Mulan overcame curiosity. Feeling nearly as sick as he had been at the sacked village.

It had not been disgust over the massacre; oh sure, he was upset over that, but he had seen his share of war and its aftermath. No, what had made him sick was finally really recalling those horrors, and realizing what he had dragged Mulan into.

The ancestors had wanted her brought home, to safeguard the family honor _and_ her life. What he had done, it had not been what a guardian should have done.

'Baby girl, have I lead you into it again?' he wondered despairingly as he snuck through the canvas hall.

**XXX**

Mulan emerged from the Ger as sunrise painted the sky. It was different today.

The strange feeling of walking around here dressed like she was going to a dinner party back home was the least of it. It was the silence that stopped her three paces from Unegan's door.

Oh, she could hear the talk of men and the ever-present horses, and the wind even. But it wasn't right. The sound of the Ger coming to life, the people beginning a new day even as others woke to join them.

She felt rather small suddenly.

The only people she saw were armed men, Unegan's men. A group of them were lounging nearby, something cooking over a fire while they threw dice. Walking up to them she was unnoticed, clearing her throat for attention. They glared up at her, only to straighten up a bit.

"Your ladyship," a less ratty looking one said. No, his clothes were fine, but something about these men put her in mind of the rat their old dog had killed and left on the floor.

"Where is everyone?" she demanded. She was trying to channel Shang, a man who could quell a brawl just by showing up. If she had these men right they wouldn't be receptive to anything less.

"The women of our tribe have been ordered confined to their Gers save for necessities. His Majesty wants us all sharp, and the children not to be underfoot," he told her. Mulan frowned at that, glancing at the too still Ger again. She wondered if keeping people from their work for however long would really help matters.

"What about Bataar's tribe?" she pressed. The man smiled at that, straightening up and fingering his belt before answering.

"All taken care of, tied up good and well like His Majesty wants."

"Even the women and children?" Mulan snapped. She hadn't meant to snap, the man seemed about to snap back, but his face flashed panic and he was polite again.

"Aye, even if the enemy men get loose, they won't do much with that lot under spears and rope. Fare bit of distance between 'em too, but not too much," the man said.

"Take me to them," Mulan commanded.

**XXX**

Apparently they were keeping the woman and children separate – beyond spotting a woman holding a bundled babe she saw no children in her sweeping survey.

The women kneeled in rows or bunches with no seeming order, all in a cleared space in the Ger. A group of spearmen walked around them, one even walking the rows. The ground was muddy; they had been kneeling in the mud all night, outside.

She knew she should turn around and go, but her feet wouldn't obey, circling and weaving through the mass of humanity. Until she found what she was looking for. One and a half pairs of eyes glaring up at her.

"I thought they were lying. Ulaan was right, I am a fool. I should have put a spear in your gut instead of your hands," Oyunbileg growled. Mulan opened her mouth to say something, but was at a loss. She looked to Choeten, the tiny woman next to the spear wife. There were no answers there. Merely cold contempt instead of hot fury.

"Come a little closer. It turns out Han really are treacherous, so let's see if it's true about their women being delicate too," Oyunbileg growled.

"Watch it," Mulan's hulking escort warned. Mulan raised a hand; Oyunbileg laughed.

"I could curse you, but you are already cursed, ingrate," Oyunbileg laughed bitterly.

Now that was too much.

"And what a I to be grateful for? Being kidnapped and nearly raped? That he invaded my country and would have razed anything in his path if he hadn't been stopped?" Mulan demanded.

"He destroyed your old life, and let you have a new one. Nearly raped rather than raped, big difference there, I know enough women to say it. And rather than kill you, you ended up a queen," Oyunbileg rattled off shortly.

"I never wanted to be a queen! I just wanted to save my father to go home!" Mulan shouted back.

"…"

"Your family lives?

"Your family lives?!

"Bitch! I could almost forgive blood vengeance, but you still have kin while you help this happen?!

"Do you know what we are here for? To chain our men, until they are slaughtered! Then we will be plunder or given to these men. A couple rapes to break us in, then either slaves or wives to whoever claim us."

"Not you woman, you belong to Shirchin now. He'll kill the man who does you unnecessary harm," the guard pointed out.

"I already told him what he can do with that. You get one too, Han," Oyunbileg rumbled. She spat, the saliva hitting Mulan's foot.

Mulan stepped back, shocked despite herself. The guard tensed and stepped forward as if to stand between Mulan and the bound women.

"I do not know what Shirchin sees in you," Unegan's voice cut into the scene. The King walked through the prisoners, some daring to glare, more averting their eyes. Despite the slight frown on his face, Mulan could almost see contentment radiating from him.

'He likes having them on their knees, even as they hate him,' she decided. His attention was on Oyunbileg rather than her; she took another step back, hoping it might stay that way. Unegan reached them and looked down on the spear wife, arms crossed over his chest.

"I truly don't see it. But a deal is a deal – I offered to give him some advice to break you in after matters settle. He didn't seem to care for it, but he's a smart man, he will learn. You should learn too if you wish to live.

"I would have thought a lost eye would have taught you your lesson," he sighed, shaking his head. Oyunbileg bared her teeth before retorting.

"What lesson?"

"Where you belong. Nothing good comes from a woman trying to rise above her station. I am proud to put you on your knees, after so long standing and pretending you were as good as a man.

"Bataar was foolish to let you all forget what you are, this is the first lesson. Here in the mud and the cold. When a man takes you into his tent you will be grateful, just as you will be grateful only he and his ruler have the right to take you when they please.

"Ah, that defiance, you think you can bravely resist me? That like a wild horse you will throw me off you and crush my head?

"I know how to break people, especially the likes of you. Those who would be heroes," Unegan grinned. His foot kicked out, hitting Choeten in the chest. With a cry, the bound woman fell back.

Oyunbileg gave a sound of surprise as Unegan sprang, grabbing Choeten and dragging her out of the row. Kneeling with one knee on her stomach as she tried to rise, he grabbed her chest, ripping the cloth off.

"Stop!" Oyunbileg shouted, trying to stand only to fall over as the bonds tightened.

"I promised Shirchin you would be harmed no more than necessary. But this woman, I don't need. So she can suffer for your defiance. Should I take an eye to match you? Or maybe help her out of these clothes, my men look a bit bored standing watch."

"Ba-!" Oyunbileg choked back on the words.

"You almost insulted me. And I do believe you also insulted my lady. I think you need to be punished," he said, drawing a dagger from his belt.

"Wait!" Mulan shouted. The Huns looked to her, even wide-eyed Choeten on her back. Unegan glared at her, dagger in hand.

"Are you interfering?" he demanded. Mulan struggled for something to say, the weight of captors and captives alike weighing down on her.

"Tea!" she said.

"What?" Unegan asked. The women looked equally puzzled.

"Uh, I, I tire of this. We should leave at once; I could serve you tea back in the tent. Wouldn't that be nice?" Mulan asked, forcing a smile. Unegan glared at her, and for a moment she could actually hear him say no, and see him do something with that dagger.

But she saw the blade go back into its sheath, and the man get off the small woman. He smiled at her, full of charm again as he stepped up to her.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful. Let us go at once," he said, offering his hand to her. She stared at it, debating what she wanted to do with what she should do.

She took the hand and let him lead her off. The former soldier tried to raise up her reasons as armor, but the states of the women behind her struck back regardless.

**XXX**

Mulan didn't know why she was doing this. If anything she should be thinking about escape if Unegan decided to betray her. Mushu was plotting something while keeping secrets, she just knew it.

She wondered if it was right to be angry at the little dragon. She was starting to think tricks and secrets may be his nature, like some spirits she had heard of.

The number of men guarding the tent impressed her; in a way, she supposed to sole occupant deserved the caution, and the shelter Unegan so readily denied the women. She knew all about tradition as a powerful force.

It was a tent rather than proper Ger and as she reached it someone emerged, someone with yellow hair. Altan looked up at her in surprise, two of the guards stepping up to the queen. Clearly security was not quite as extreme as Mulan had thought at first glance.

"Queen Hachin," the regal woman greeted her.

"Not for long," Mulan answered.

"Ah, so that's what he offered you. Good day then, you have quite the role in all of this yet," Altan told her. Watching the woman and her guards depart she stepped up to the tent flap unchallenged, and pulled it aside to enter.

"Ah, another lovely visitor. Don't care for the dress though, doesn't suit you at all," Old Moon greeted. The shaman sat on a thin woven mat in the middle of the tent, his staff set aside, his wrists bound in rope.

"Only my wrists, guess they saw no need for more with an old man like me," he chuckled. Mulan sat down across from him, trying to remember what she had come to say.

That was it!

"Please cooperate, there's no need for more bloodshed," she begged. His eye went cold as he fixed it on her, and deep breath puffing out wrinkled cheeks. It should have looked ridiculous.

"No, when I see my opportunity I am taking it. You should do the same," he told her firmly.

"That's what I am doing," she grumbled. The old man ground what was left of his teeth, glaring at her.

"No, you are throwing your chances away. Unegan's path leads to ruin, even for him in the end. For such men they either are destroyed or destroy themselves, I can see him much clearer now," he told her.

"I'm only throwing away what you forced on me, you and Bataar. This is the only way I can be free," she insisted.

"Bataar spared your life in the Pass, and he never treated you with needless cruelty. Never forced himself on you, even when I would have commanded him to.

"As for my part I made you a Queen, placed you high so you could shine. And you were doing it! You were becoming what you should be," Old Moon snapped.

"And what's that?" Mulan demanded.

"A light, to others and to yourself. For the reflection you see in the eyes of others to be someone you can recognize as yourself," Mulan sucked in a breath at the words, he couldn't know that, "And for those eyes to hold respect and even admiration, rather than the condemnation your own people held.

"What exactly do you think you are going to do?

"Run away home, back to house of Fa? They will welcome you back, they will be overjoyed that you have returned from the dead. But it won't have changed, will it?

"You will still have to choose between your true self, and what your people require you to be. Betray your family's honor, or betray yourself. Isn't that what you were running from, failure and being told time and again you were not good enough for a role you never asked for?"

"I did what I did to save my father!"

"No, that was part of it, but not all. Not every daughter fearful for her father would have one what you did. Most would never think of it. You saw a path and chose to take it in spite of every obstacle, and everyone saying you shouldn't even try.

"There is nothing for you back there but squandering your life to please others. The only difference will be, that you will know it was your choice to go back," Old Moon ranted coldly.

"You know nothing about me," she hissed, getting up.

"He ensnared Altan, by saying his dark spirits could save her daughter as I could not. She should know better, she does, I think. But fear for your family robs us of wisdom easily.

"It's not just yourself you are betraying. Bataar and I will die if he has his way, you may feel vindicated in that. But can you say that the Huns deserve to have Unegan ruling their lives?"

"He won't threaten my people. He practically worships them," she told him, still looking away.

"Ah, but you wouldn't have come to see me if you didn't have doubts. There is still time, do not waste it, Hachin," he told her.

"That is not my name," she told him, ducking out through the flap.

"The edge of a knife, once again destiny rest on the edge of a knife," Old Moon muttered.

_That Night:_

"My husband regrets you can't join him for dinner, but he understands you need to rest," Dalan said, bowing in the doorway. Mulan was reclining on the bed mat in the room Unegan had given her. Cri-kee resting on her chest, she thought she might actually look sick.

"Well, the day was trying, and Bataar returns tomorrow," Mualn answered wearily. Unegan had been quick to believe a day spent doing hardly anything would tire her out. 'A delicate Han lady'.

'What would he think if I told him I lived and did chores on a farm?' she wondered. Nothing good, was the answer she reached every time. She only had to close her eyes to see Choeten, the other women, and the look in his eyes when she had spoken up.

'One wrong word and it might have been me on the ground,' she admitted. She had expected Bataar… the Shan-Yu's brother to be a monster, but now she was wondering if he was worse. She had never seen him eat with his people like Bataar was wont to do, or even imagine him taking care of himself without thinking like Bataar did.

That shouldn't have mattered – no one should expect important people to act like that. It would be as ridiculous as dressing himself instead of having servant to do it for him. At the very least, Unegan tried to be civilized.

'Except for all that, things have already become worse and he has barely begun to rule. He thinks of breaking these women like horses. And what will he do to the men?' she wondered.

"Miss Maral," Dalan addressed her. Mulan jerked, having thought the woman had silently slipped out like Unegan's lower wives.

"Yes?" Mulan asked. Dalan watched her for a moment; Mulan pulled herself up to sit, wondering what was going on. Dalan pulled the hair combed over her face aside, revealing an unfocused eye staring off in the wrong direction.

"I broke a tea pot he liked. If I keep it open too long it starts to hurt.

"He hurts Solongo.

"He gave Odgerel to Lasuluun last night. She has gone away inside again. Each time she does I think she won't come back," Dalan told her calmly.

Mulan stared, mouth hanging open.

"He is… not good. The Shan-Yu is frightening, but I am afraid of my husband ruling. He promised my family… whatever promises he makes to you or the Queen, he will do what he wants. And what he wants, it hurts," Dalan said. She lowered her hand, letting the bead-adorned hair fall back into place. The Hun left in silence, the tray still cooling untouched as Mulan stared up at the ceiling with Cri-kee.

**XXX**

Entering the main chamber, he immediately went to the hiding place.

Mushu watched with interest from behind a Chinese screen, one that depicted a dragon that looked like a far more impressive version of him in flight. He watched Unegan kneel as he unwrapped something wrapped in faded red silk.

"Wha?" the dragon whispered as the silk fell away. Unegan held in his hands, like it was a precious infant, a ceramic figurine. It was clearly of Chinese make, and Mushu realized what it was of in the low light as Unegan carefully turned it over.

It was of a fine Chinese lady, pale and wrapped in silk. The hairstyle and make up on it was identical to the way Unegan insisted on his wives prettying up Mulan.

"Oh heck, no!" Mushu groaned. Unegan's head whipped around and Mushu ducked behind the screen. Holding the figurine protectively to his chest, Unegan drew a dagger with his free hand. Silent on the rugs, he stalked over to the screen, and made to peer around. He halted as a chill swept through the room.

"It's embarrassing for a grown woman to have dolls, how much more so for a man?" the ghoul asked. Unegan turned away from the screen and watched the ghoul rise from the floor, its inky flesh bubbling and writhing as it grew and took shape. Unegan frowned but replaced the dagger in his belt. He looked from the ghoul to the treasure in his hands.

"It was a gift from my father. The only one he ever gave to me personally. Just after my mother died. He never told me why he killed her, or why he gave me this," Unegan said to the ghoul.

The unclean spirit stood silent, whether waiting or at a loss for words Mushu couldn't say as he peeked out again.

"You are afraid," the ghoul stated finally. Unegan put the statue down and looked at the monster.

"Of course I am afraid, it's Bataar I must face. He is a killer, maybe the greatest living killer. Before the Battle of Mists I would never have believed there was anyone who could kill my father.

"My own strengths have maneuvered him into position. But now… if he could close the distance between us," Unegan mused, brow glistening. The ghoul's lips pulled back in a too wide sneer. It spoke to the King as it floated around him, leaving an inky trail in its wake.

"You have all but a handful of his warriors under either rope or turned to your side. A Ger's worth of your own killers. Hostages aplenty, and still you fear him!" the ghoul hissed. Unegan grimaced, then glared at the apparition.

"Your fate is tied to mine! The flaw in the plan is Bataar, if he were to get close to me… What spell is needed, to let me face him if I must," Unegan demanded.

"No magic can cure a coward of his cowardice, light or dark," the ghoul laughed.

"I am not a coward! A coward would not have gone this far and dared so much," Unegan retorted. The ghoul grabbed his shoulders; Unegan jolted at the wet feeling that flashed through him.

"You called me back to the daylight world! As you wept in that tent cold and forsaken with your DOLL! Your despair, your anger, and above all else your fear, it was like beacon atop a hill.

"Whether a nudge or taking the load I have brought you here, to this place where sweet vengeance and the blood of vendettas will flow and nourish darkness.

"Do not threaten me with letting go of the leash, you could never let it go. You know without me you are nothing more than that spoiled boy crying in the dark," the ghoul coldly spoke. Unegan looked into its eyes, wide-eyed and frozen. Releasing him, it moved back apace and smiled.

"But perhaps there is a way, to give you strength to drown your fear?"

"Yes!"

"But it would only last a short time, long enough though."

"What do I need, I can get anything from Old Moon's stores."

"I need only one thing to keep you safe. Your consent."

"My consent?"

"Yes, consent to me."

"To what?"

"If you don't want my protection, perhaps you overestimate the wolf eyes?"

"…I consent!" Unegan shouted. The ghoul gently cupped his shoulders and the darkness peeled back from its face.

Unegan looked up in horror, his mouth dropping open to scream. It was squished as his mouth was filled with darkness.

Mushu watched, eyes wide as the horrid squelching and twisting sound filled the air, Unegan's solitary shadow stumbling around, flailing. With a great backward jerk, the Hun King fell to the ground.

Mushu gulped, watching him lie there.

'Oh please be dead,' he thought. The man sat up with an unnatural jerking motion. Except the "man's" eyes glowed a brilliant sickly green. The dragon had fled the chamber before they faded back to their normal color.

_Morning:_

Mulan sat before a trio of mirrors, two rectangular metal ones, and a single circular glass one. A display of wealth letting her see the fine work the wives had done with her hair and make up. Just Dalan and Solongo, she had not seen Odgerel.

"I really could pass for a fine lady," she remarked lightly, touching her put up hair. Mushu thumped his foot, watching her as he leaned against the left mirror.

"Mulan! Did you hear what I said?" he demanded.

"Of course, Unegan is working with a ghoul, an evil spirit which has now possessed him. And he is dressing me up like a figurine he has," she answered dully. Mushu exchanged a concerned look with Cri-kee at the lack of reaction.

"Oookay, maybe I should make this clear. A ghoul is a dead spirit that is able to bind itself to this world with very, _very_ strong negative attachments. And with magic they either had in life or some idiot gave them after death they become evil abominations. These are dark ancestors of the worse sort. They exist to do the opposite of benign spirits, but since they were once mortal all they need to interfere with mortal affairs is an invitation.

"This is the kind of thing you call the Great Stone Dragon to deal with! I'm not talking overkill like sending Stony after you, I am saying this is what he passed the exam and got a permit to do!

"This is bad, like another river of snow carrying us toward an abyss of death, while flaming arrows rain down and a, a, ahh, bee is buzzing round your face!" Mushu jumped up, grabbing her dress to stare her in the face. Cri-kee chirped at the last part.

"Hey, bees are mean! And as awesome as I am, I am out of my depth. I wouldn't take on something like that even if I _were_ a guardian spirit still. That's an invitation to an empty pedestal!" Mushu ranted. Mulan gently grabbed his neck and pulled him off her, setting him back down.

"So, what do you want me to do?

"Its clear Bataar would not let me go, and it looks like Unegan probably won't. Still, the new Shan-Yu would be weaker if he has to rely on evil spirits, and he is more likely than Bataar to release me, since Bataar definitely won't.

"So stick with the plan, do what Unegan says then run for it while he tries to rule the Huns?" Mulan asked calmly. Mushu frowned and looked at his feet.

"Well, that seems like the only choice doesn't it? Sorry baby girl," Mushu muttered.

Mulan took a deep breath, looking at her reflections. She saw a make up brush had been left along with some jars. Rolling back her left sleeve she selected the darkest color in the lot painting a simple design on the outside of her arm.

Holding up the arm she took a long look at how it seemed on her skin. Her companions stayed silent as her eyes turned back to her face. Lowering the arm, she let the sleeve fall back into place, and picked up a cloth next to a small water bowl.

Dampening the cloth she put it to her face, pulling it away to leave only a few smeared blots on her face.

"Mulan?" Mushu asked.

"Mushu, Cri-kee, I need you two to do something for me," she said with a sigh. Cri-kee chirped up, thrusting out his chest and giving her a salute, Mushu followed suit.

"Hey, we're in this to end baby girl. But what exactly are you planning?" Mushu asked.

"Something stupid, that will probably get us all killed," Mulan admitted.

"Sounds like business as usual," Mushu laughed. Mulan giggled along with him as she wiped away the last make up from her face.

_Meanwhile_:

The crowd of warriors gathered around the wood platform, stirred in excitement as the fresh caught prisoners were brought forward. With Queen Altan standing by his side, the King of the Left gestured for them to be brought forth as a group of spearmen formed a line in front of the platform.

Batu and Gaitan were shoved to the ground, arms bound behind their backs, spears leveled at them. Batu spat blood from his mouth and looked over his shoulder at the two traitors.

"Scum! Sun and Moon forsake the both of you!" he cursed. His brother rose to his knees, glaring at the royalty standing over them, behind a line of spears.

"The fact they are with the winning side, would indicate they are not cursed," Unegan remarked.

"Bataar has betrayed my husband's trust, so I have given my support to another claimant," Altan announced.

"Bataar will crush you Unegan, and if he spares you Altan it will only be so your husband can punish you for this treachery – the Beast would never lower himself run with the Fox," Gaitan sneered. A spear butt struck him in the back of the head. It knocked him forward, but he simply righted himself and glared at the warrior who had struck. He grinned when the warrior flinched.

"Bataar has already lost, all that remains is for him to ride in and die. He is too proud to back down," Unegan chuckled.

"Why bring so many warriors with drawn steel, if your victory is so certain?" Batu asked. Unegan ignored the question, snapping his fingers. A well-dressed warrior climbed onto the platform and bowed deeply at the waist.

"Bring the Han, and the others I mentioned. We must have proper witnesses, for the end of an era and the dawn of a new one," the King ordered. The warrior rushed to carry out the order, and the King smiled, looking out into the hills.

Batu narrowed his eyes; he could have sworn for a moment that there had been a flicker in the Fox Prince's eyes.

**XXX**

Looking down from a hilltop on his horse, Bataar watched the strangely still Ger. It seemed the people were amassed in three groups in front of Unegan's tent, and two other spots at either side of the Ger, but still within its boundaries.

"Sire, the twins have still not returned," one of the hunters behind him commented. Had he not been so focused he would have reprimanded the young fool for stating the obvious. As it was he could see the third scout returning.

Reaching out with his sword hand, he caught what Suren had dropped, examining it as the bird settled onto the outstretched arm.

A bow, half a bow, with a broken string still dangling from it. Holding the wood to his nose he could smell the death on it. And quickly recognized its make.

Suren took to the air, letting him drop the broken weapon and draw his sword. Fa Zhu's sword – he still wasn't sure if he should toss it aside or revel in it as a trophy. But it should serve for vengeance.

"It's a trap, at the very least Ulaan is dead. We can either flee or ride into and through it. Fleeing is not an option – he would kill them all then just to call me a coward for not saving them.

"…

"Let's go see what the ingrate has to say for himself, shall we?" Bataar asked. Kicking his stallion into a trot, he led the band down the hill to where his enemies lay in wait.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_One down, two more to go. Can you believe it?!_


	16. Truth

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Disney's 'Mulan', it belongs to Disney._

_Betaed by: _Zim'smostloyalservant

_Created with:_ Jazzqueen

* * *

**Truth**

Emerging from the tent, Mulan could feel the energy in the twilight air; it was like walking into the most anticipated festival ground ever. The platform Unegan had ordered built was done – she could make out the three figures on it from behind. Unegan, looking out over his assembled warriors, she could practically see his smug satisfaction already. He was holding a bulging sack in one hand by the cord. There was Queen Altan, posture stiff, nearly rigid, determined, but not proud.

And between the two of them was Old Moon; she could see his staff laid off to the side. The old man had already been a hostage, but displaying their control over the man who had raised their enemy like this, it just seemed to cross a line between enemies somehow.

She heard the guards on either side of Unegan's door say something to her but she ignored it. Mulan held her left palm up, holding Cri-kee as she walked around to step up the stairs onto the platform.

Unegan turned to regard her, and his expression was surprising. Instead of the almost boyish glee she had expected, he looked solemn but eager. And a bit surprised but not upset about her missing makeup. How could Unegan not be at least upset enough to slip up for a moment at her not conforming to him?

'The ghoul is controlling him, at lest enough to cover his weaknesses,' she thought with worry. The Fox Prince was dangerous, but known; would the ghoul give her the opening she needed?

"What happened to your makeup?" the man asked.

"I wanted Bataar to recognize me when I denounce him as impotent and unfit to lead," she whispered, leaning in close to the man. His grin widened slightly and he put an arm over her shoulders. A shiver of revulsion she might have kept in check, but he was cold! Thankfully, if he noticed, he did not mind.

Looking over the crowd, she saw it was not just Unegan's men assembled. Lasuluun and Shirchin stood in front of the platform watching over the empty space in front of the platform.

But what drew her attention were the hostages. Choeten, Oyunbileg and the twins stood hands bound in a ring of swordsmen. Except for Oyunbileg, they had clearly been worked over some by their captors, but still stood straight, glaring at her.

That the accusations in those stares stung so surprised her. When exactly had she come to value what they thought of her? Though what would she think of a woman under Unegan's arm, who seemed to have chosen to be there?

"The Shan-Yu, hail mighty Bataar!" a man shouted, trailing off into laughter as the crowd parted. At Lasuluun's whistle, a line of spearmen joined him and Shirchin in front of the platform as more men called out hails and laughed.

Finally enough men moved their spears to give her an unobstructed view.

It put her back in the pass, when the dreaded Shan-Yu had been riding down on her with an unstoppable army at his back. The eyes of wolf. What had been dismissed as a legend told among boys to scare other boys had been revealed as a chilling reality.

And those eyes were cold, cold enough to burn as he rode into the midst of his foes with only a handful of warriors at his back. The circle closed behind him and the laughter died. She smiled, wondering if his cold fury had sucked the jokers' warmth from the crowd.

"Unegan, you are dumber than I thought. Though not half as much as my so called wife it would seem," Bataar spoke.

"Ah Bataar, always so insulting, never did learn how to mind your betters. Comes from growing up away from everything that matters, I suppose," the ghoul talked like Unegan, but she could almost call it a power behind his voice. As if the words were the King's, but more so? It must have had some power, as the laughter returned.

"It is my pleasure to inform you that your reign is at an end," Unegan-Ghoul chuckled. Altan spoke up, taking a step forward.

"Throw down your weapons and dismount, and tell our men to do the same. Do so and you are the only man who has to die this night."

"Bugger that! Kill these traitors Bataar, for the sake of the Huns!" Choeten shouted. A spear butt hit her face, sending her falling to the ground. Batu slowly turned his face toward the offending spearman.

"I will bugger you with that spear," he promised quietly, the words carrying. Bataar smiled, looking back to the platform.

"Heh, should a Shan-Yu refuse such a tenderly worded request? Which reminds me, on what grounds do you claim what is mine?" Bataar demanded.

"Incompetence and impotence. You lied about your defeat, and this woman you call a wife is still a virgin. But let's start with the defeat, and those lies. Miss, if you would?" the possessed King said, removing his arm and nudging her forward.

**XXX**

Min tore at the ground with a hoof, tossing her head about. The other mares gave the white horse a wide berth as she prowled the edge of the corral in fine temper. Mushu pulled himself on top of a fence post and whistled with a finger to his mouth.

"_Helloooo,_ Miss Min!" Mushu called. Flaring her nostrils, the horse got its face in his, glaring. Chuckling nervously, the dragon patted her nose.

"Glad to see you're already in the spirit of things. I got a little proposition for you, I think you'll like it," hr told the mare.

**XXX**

"I was the Han soldier that defeated the Horde. I had joined the Imperial Army and been trained, deceiving them all. It was a woman who defeated Bataar the Wolf, and he did not kill that woman over the bodies of his men!" Mulan announced. Shock rippled through the assembled. Oyunbileg, she saw, looked both surprised and a little excited despite her situation.

'Guess she just realized that answered questions she had,' Mulan guessed.

"It is so! Their deaths lie unavenged, as he let this woman dare become Queen over the Huns!" Lasuluun called out. Shirchin shouted an affirmation as well, though no details to it, just agreement.

"He married me, because of the scheming of the shaman who wanted to send him to his doom. Old Moon wanted the power that destroyed the Horde for the Huns and was willing to deceive the Circle and manipulate his Shan-Yu to get it," Mulan continued, glaring down at the shaman. Old Moon did not acknowledge it, he just looked out on the crowd.

Unegan-Ghoul stepped forward; she turned and saw his teeth bared in a wide smile. Surprisingly, the teeth were yellow, and it seemed a bit too wide for anyone.

"Weakness, deception, and so much more make it clear that if you were ever worthy of the mantle you-"

"But these crimes against the Huns could be justified. A bitter medicine one hates to swallow, but does not regret the cure.

"What can't be justified or forgiven, is the man who betrays himself and his people for his own ends."

"What?" Unegan demanded.

"King Unegan has made a pact with a ghoul, throwing away all pride as a living man and forsaking the spirits of the worked to gain the dark powers' favor. Through it he has murdered a great chieftain to create death and chaos. And struck at a child because even with such power he feared the King of the Right!"

"Wench, I-!" Unegan screamed, grabbing her arm.

With a shriek, Suren dove down, claws bared, ripping into the handsome face. With a cry, the King released her as the bird screamed, tearing into him. Mulan stumbled back, pulling off the belt, letting the dress open so her legs were freer.

"And he threw away any pride as a man, letting the ghoul possess him of his own free will.

"Such a man can bring nothing more than what this coming night holds, treachery and death. Nothing more, never fit to lead anyone anywhere!" she declared.

Grabbing Suren, he tossed the hawk aside, eyes flaring green.

"I knew it! I should have made him kill you!" the ghoul spoke through Unegan.

Three glowing spheres shot past Mulan and whirled around the ghoul. Stopping on opposing sides of him, the glow faded, revealing three eadols revolving around the possessed man. Mulan spotted a bear, a wolf, and an eagle, possibly a hawk.

The bone cravings flared again, white lightning surging from them to strike Unegan.

"RAAAA!" the scream was inhuman as Unegan's head was thrown back, eyes flaring even brighter.

Gaitan watched, mesmerized by the turn of events, even ignoring the elbow to his side. A sharper jab got his attention; meeting his brother's gaze, Batu pointed down with his eyes. Puzzled, the twin looked down and saw his brother drop the leather binding to the ground, hands still held like they were bound though.

Grinning, Gaitan shifted his footing so his brother could start working at his own binding, hoping the guards were just as distracted as he had been.

"Hiding, your kind is good at that if you have a patron. But I've got you now, you undead offal," Old Moon muttered, getting to his feet. Mulan watched him stand up, and wondered what was wrong. Her eyes found his staff still lying on the wooden boards next to him.

Mist rose about his feet, rising through the board and circling over him. Taking a deep breath, he drew it in, and with a crack he straightened up a bit.

As his bent back cracked with each jerk, Mulan flinched – he may not look to have been in pain, but it sounded awful. With a snap-pop, the shaman stood straight, and looked taller than he had any business being, standing there in his ragged clothes and painted monkey headdress.

"I'm not as spry as I used to be, I will be sore in the morning!" the shaman complained, shaking his head.

Roaring, Unegan thrust out a hand, sending darkness boiling towards the shaman. Old Moon held out his hand and the staff jumped up into it. Swinging the staff with fluid grace, he struck the darkness head on, and with a flash it vanished.

"I call you to come out of him!" Old Moon commanded. Unegan crossed his arms and flung them wide, green energy sparking from them. The eadols burst into green flames and fell to the ground.

Leaping into the air, the possessed King lunged for the old man. Old Moon planted his feet and dropped his staff.

The green-eyed monster hit him and was turned to slam into the platform, the boards buckling. Old Moon's eyes flared brilliant white as spittle flew in his face from the pinned Hun.

"Out!" Old Moon commanded, jabbing Unegan's chest with two fingers. It looked like he actually stabbed the man with his index and middle fingers, sinking them into the chest. When the man stilled, she wondered if he had.

With a war cry he pulled his hand back, something black and green held in it, and tossed it away from Unegan… and next to her.

Tripping over her feet, she scooted back as the black lump rose up, growing as the green eyes formed anew. Staff once more in hand, Old Moon turned his back on Unegan's prone form, mist coiling about him again.

"Reveal your true self to me, and be gone from this world. It's time you moved on, unclean one."

The ghoul raised a newly formed hand and green lightning shot from the fingers at the shaman. Old Moon lifted his staff; the lightning twisted in the air and struck the tip of the staff, green mist rising from the conflagration and swiftly fading away.

"Shaman tricks," the ghoul cursed. Cutting off the lighting, another hand grew and shot out toward Old Moon. Old Moon stepped to meet it with a punch from his free hand, the mist surging along it and out from it into a swelling fist of billowing white.

The dark hand shattered as the mist coiled along the arm to the ghoul itself. The ghoul cried out as the mist wrapped about it, hissing on its black form as more green vapor rose from it.

"YOU CANNOT-!"

"Yes I can. Did you think I am the greatest spirit man of the Steppes for nothing? No matter how many times your kind crawl out of your graves, that is still where you belong!

"Now show me your true face and name," Old Moon commanded. Reaching the ghoul, he raised his staff and plunged it into where Mulan thought its chest was.

The ghoul shrieked and kicked up in the air as white lightning poured from the staff over it. The darkness flecked away as it writhed in the air, revealing something dark gray beneath it, wearing clothes?

"You…" Old Moon whispered aloud as the face of the ghoul was revealed. Mulan saw it as it continued to twist about. A Hun with a thick mane of black hair and a wild mustache, unshaven cheeks blunting a face that seemed somewhat familiar.

"Burilegi!" Bataar shouted in realization. Mulan had forgotten they had an audience.

"I should have known you would not rest in peace. But I still did not think even you so foolish as to take this cursed path.

"Now Burilegi, son of – uck!" Old Moon croaked. Blood burst from his upper back and the shaman fell forward. He hit the boards with a thud, his body twisting back before her eyes as his blood began to run out. The ghoul fell back to the platform, the white mist fading as the staff sputtered and sparked in its chest.

With a tug, the wind scythe returned to Unegan's hand, its chain undone and held in his other hand. Blood dripped from the short curved blade.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" Unegan shouted.

Then all hell broke loose.

The twins stepped up to the spearmen who were facing away from them in the spectacle; grabbing a head in each hand, they knocked the guards' heads together with a crack. Mulan saw Batu grab two spears while Gaitan took one and tossed it to a free Oyunbileg. Unegan's soldiers raised their own war cry, turning in to press on the hostages as they started to strike out at the targets all around them.

At the sound of running, Mulan turned and glimpsed the blonde queen dashing off the platform away from the brawl.

A horse screamed, as a spear pierced its neck. Bataar leapt clear and the falling horse plowed forward, snapping the spear and falling on top of its slayer as the man cried out.

Steel flashing, the Shan-Yu hit the ground as men screamed and blood fell.

"Kill them! Kill them now! There are too many of us to lose!" Unegan shouted, shoving a guard near him forward and almost off the platform.

Thunder rolled in, making the warriors falter from the clash lower their arms in silent puzzlement. She could feel the moment they recognized the rumble.

"Riders!" someone called out.

"Not quite!" Mulan remarked.

The Ger's horses galloped through the tents, tearing up the ground with every powerful hoof fall.

Some of the men raised their sears in opposition, but it did nothing to stop the stampede as it trampled the men between the platform and the fighting.

Mulan recognized one of Unegan's officers as he leapt clear onto the platform, teetering on the edge, flailing for balance in front of her. Tearing off her left sleeve, she let the silk fall and stepped forward, kicking him in the shin.

With a single panicked cry, he fell back and was lost under the hooves.

"What are you doing?!" she heard Unegan demand. She ignored him, spotting the right white mare.

"No!" he shouted as she jumped. Hitting the horse's back she slipped, grabbing the mane to hold herself steady. Min huffed in anger and turned, trying to bite her.

"Oh shut up, this isn't fun for me either!" Mulan told the foul-tempered mare. Pulling herself into place, she reined the mare out of the stampede into the confused mill of troops. Letting go with her right hand, she snatched a raised but aimless spear from a man's grip.

The horse got first blood, biting a man's shoulder; that took them out of whatever shock they were in.

Mulan had never killed a man with a spear before. As the tip sank into a fat bearded man's chest, she realized it was easier than it looked. She wondered if anyone had even noticed she had painted the spear wife mark on her bared arm?

**XXX**

"Fool, get back here!" Batu called as Oyunbileg pushed down the man she had just gutted to break through the press. Ignoring the call from the knot of comrades, she pressed on to an opening.

Coming out of the grunting, screaming press was always a bit of a shock for her. But this time she was razor focused, on the man atop a horse giving orders in the open space.

"Pull these fools back! There is no room to maneuver; it favors their defense! Archers form up, someone get hose horses and mount up!" Shirchin called from atop his horse, gesturing with his sword.

"Sir!" one of Unegan's men called a warning, raising his bow toward her. Her spear struck his chest, sending him falling back with a cry. The light was fading; she couldn't see his face under the helm as he brought his horse to face her.

"See to my orders," he told the handful of men standing around them.

"But sir-"

"Now!" he roared. The men ran from him quicker than spooked horses. The sounds of battle were too close, but for this moment the two were essentially alone in the storm of steel.

"My husband is dead," she said, pulling another spear from its hasty strap on her back.

"I did not kill him," Shirchin answered.

"You let him go to his death. Did you really think I would be with you over his dead body like this?" she demanded.

"He never loved you, never even cared that he had a son. Or did he suspect that the boy who called him father was not of his blood? I don't know the answer either, but I still would-" Shirchin said.

"Nothing! Maybe there were days I wish I wasn't a coward back then. That one of us had been brave, but that's done. Not like this, you idiot!

"I'd sooner die than let my son be raised by a man who would betray everything he was like this!" she shouted, a tear running down from her last eye.

Shirchin stared back at her as she lifted her spear, falling into the throwing stance, taking aim. With a jerk, his stallion reared up, and turned about. With a clop its hooves returned to the earth and he urged it forward in a trot, away from her.

Eye narrowing, she took her aim; she could see it right between his shoulder blades. A perfect hit.

She threw it wide and spun on her heels, shrieking a high war cry, jumping onto the man she had killed earlier and pulling the spear out of his chest.

**XXX**

"MIN!" Mulan screamed as a spear cut across the horse's face. The horse reared up in pain and struck out with its hooves at the attacker. Coming down hard, the mare kicked out with her hind legs.

As the horse bucked in pain and anger, Mulan realized what was going to happen before it did. There were very good reasons for saddles and reins, and this was why. Dropping the spear to try and hold on the horse's neck kept her on for a moment, but the next motion saw her grip loosen, then she was falling.

First lesson in getting thrown off a horse is to land well. Check, sort of. Second, get away from it before you get trampled.

Pushing herself up from the ground, she went away from Min as the horse continued her rampage. It wasn't like she could help the horse without becoming a target. Turning back to look at the horse breaking free of the battle almost cost her, a chance slip sent her back onto her back as a sword whistled through the air she had been in.

"This time you're mine, witch," Lasuluun smirked down at her. Raising his sword, he slashed down at her. Rolling to the side as if she was evading one of Shang's kicks she heard the blade cleave the ground. Using the motion to get to her feet while the Hun pulled his sword free she spotted a corpse, trampled by her horse, a sword at his belt.

Well, not quite a corpse, he groaned as he pulled the sword clear. Despite everything, she felt a need to apologize for stealing from someone so injured. Instinct stopped that as she turned with the curved sword, blocking a stroke.

"Stealing your enemy's swords to fight his allies?" Lasuluun asked as he pushed her back with the blade. She stumbled over the man but managed to duck his slash.

She fell back a bit, falling into the stance and frowning. The blade was different from her father's; the stance was not as strong with it.

Still, she had to make do with what she had.

"I'm not naked and unarmed this time pig!" she shouted. Charging, she swung at his neck; with a sneer, he deflected the sword. She tuned with the motion, punching him in the face with the pommel, pushing their swords out of the way.

'He rolled with it?!' she cursed, feeling the blow lose some of it power. She raised her sword to block his counter, the force knocking her back a step as the blades clashed. He wiped the blood coming from his mouth and spat more.

"So you whored some training from some Han officer? So what, I'm not just stronger than you, I have been fighting and killing for more than half my life," he glowered at her. She slid to the side, holding the sword out in front of her with two hands on the hilt.

"Well, I'll get some experience ending your life, I suppose," she shot back. With a cry, she raised the sword, her steel clashing with his. Pushing against each other, their faces were drawn closer.

"Today I avenge my comrades finally."

Mulan head butted him around the steel and slashed at him. He stumbled back and clutched his chest, a gash in his tunic revealing a thin cut darkening the cloth with blood.

"Get over it," she told him, flicking his blood off the sword. She rubbed her temples with her free hand; it wasn't as hard as a rock, but it still hurt. No wonder Sang had called it a desperate attack.

"It doesn't matter, you are hopelessly outnumbered. The best you can do is die well, and in the end these men will rape your corpse and scatter your bones so your spirit will wander hungry and thirsty for eternity," he told her.

"Not so outnumbered as you think," she smiled. The sound of new war cries rose and though the couldn't see it, Mulan could see the warriors held captive from the start and the spear wives charging through their encampment, into the heat of the battle.

Lasuluun clearly wanted to look away, at the changing face of battle, but his attention remained on her smiling face.

"Did you think I just sent Mushu to free horses? I needed a delay and distraction since the women and children needed to be free first," she told him cheerfully.

"I will kill you!" he cursed, stepping forward, sword at ready.

"UNEGAN!" Bataar's roar carried over the battle.

**XXX**

"Unegan! Face me coward!" Bataar roared. Men lay dead and dying around him but still he wasn't on the platform. His brother's men fell with ease but he certainly did seem to have a lot. The Shan-Yu smiled, looking out over the men rushing to surround him again.

"Come then! Let those who wish to die step forward! The Emperor's Army could not stop me. A falling mountain could not kill me! Step forward and die by my hands like countless fools before you!" he yelled at them, baring his teeth, eyes ablaze.

They stepped back, he charged forward.

"Stop him! Kill him! Five years plunder to the man who kills him!" Unegan cried out ahead of him. The plea had the opposite effect; men screamed and fled, leaving the ground open between the two royals.

Sweat ran down Unegan's face while Bataar grinned, running forward and leaping onto the platform, the boards cracking under the impact.

"Father!" Unegan yelled, looking to where the ghoul lay, a skeletal hand wrapped around Old Moon's flickering staff, still imbedded in its chest.

"Father!" Unegan yelled again, pulling and twirling the wind scythe into a blur while Bataar advanced on him.

"Cry for your dead father for help. You're a disgrace to the entire bloodline," Bataar sneered.

"DIE!" Unegan cursed. He threw the blade in a low slicing arc at his half brother. Bataar leapt over the razor arc as it continued outward, slicing some warrior's head in half, spraying blood as it came back.

With a frantic tug, Unegan sent the blade flying back toward him, at the man charging at him.

"DIE!" he repeated. The Shan-Yu fell into a roll, the returning blade slicing off some of his hair as it cut through the air.

The leather wrapped pommel smacked into Unegan's palm as he stepped back, taking the momentum.

With a scream, he raised the short blade to catch the Han sword his brother swung at his head. The force of the blow chimed and sent the scythe spinning out of his hand.

"NO!" Unegan shifted, pulling the chain in his other hand clear across his chest. The weapon rebounded before hitting the floor coming back toward them. Twisting, Bataar grit his teeth at the awkward angle, deflecting the strange blade with the sword.

"AHHHH! My face! My face!" Unegan cried out, falling to his knees. He dropped the chain, his namesake weapon finally falling still as he grabbed his bleeding face with both hands.

"Trick weapons, no substitute or being a real man, boy!" Bataar declared. Lifting his sword overhead, he stepped up to his screaming brother.

**THWACK**

A white flash filled Bataar's eyes as he stumbled, the sword slipping from his fingers. Stumbling into Unegan, the other man screamed louder still and shoved him away to fall to the planks.

"Who?" Bataar demanded, trying to blink the flash from his eyes. Training in the back of his head told him what had happened but who? A familiar laugh turned him around.

The ghoul stood over them, once again cloaked in slithering oily darkness, Old Moon's staff held in his hands.

The darkness pulled back from its face enough to reveal a yellow-toothed smile. Raising the staff horizontally, the ghoul snapped it in half. Bataar's jaw dropped as the monster let the pieces fall to the planks, wisps of white mist escaping from the cracks.

"I should have known my whelp would not have what it took to finish what I started. Like you said, he is not enough of a man to kill someone like you in the end, even with every advantage I could create for him," the ghoul sneered.

Bataar snatched up the sword and raised it, falling into a wide stance before the tainted dead. Unegan pulled his hands from his face, revealing a ruined nose.

"Father…" he mumbled through the blood. The ghoul glanced to its living son.

"Go, kill the Sun Maiden," it ordered. Unegan looked back at it blankly.

"But-"

"DO IT! Or I will devour your soul and resume my rule with your flesh! Follow this!" the ghoul commanded.

A green sphere crackled into existence in its hand and shot up into the air. Streaking off at a sharp angle, it stopped in mid air and darted out over the battle.

Unegan scooped up his weapon and took off after the green streak. The ghoul watched him go as Bataar struck it where its shoulders should be, leaving a deep gash in the darkness. The ghoul backhanded him away, and the darkness seamlessly mended itself.

"Hahahaha! Mere blades cannot harm me boy. And now that your shaman is dead, the balance is far enough in my favor I don't need a curse to hurt you!" the ghoul laughed.

"We will see about that," Bataar shot back. Its green eyes glowing, the ghoul shook its head as its palms filled with crackling green energy.

"I had hoped to humiliate you by seeing you die by my worthless son's hand. But it seems I must finish what I started myself. No rest for the wicked I suppose," the ghoul said. With a flick of its wrist, it threw a ball of light at Bataar, who knocked it away with the flat of his sword. Someone screamed as a fire erupted out of their sight.

"Began? You were nothing but an opportunist taking advantage of the chaos Fa Zhu left in his wake!" Bataar snarled. How could he beat it? Old Moon's staff hadn't worked, and Suren might be dead for all he knew from earlier. Had his ally been in the stampede's path?

"Like all the other fools, you don't bother to look past a good story, do you?" the ghoul shook its head.

"I'm the only one who's not a fool in the family. Your father took my loyalty and service for granted, even though he would never have became ruler of all Huns without my strength at his side.

"The only reward I ever asked was to have the one woman I ever truly wanted as my bride. Instead, he took her, just another notch in his belt. As if that wasn't enough, he put that vain fool Bharbo over me on the warpath.

"He was a fool to make a duel out of what should have just been a mop up of survivors. Rubbing poisoned salve into his wound was so easy. He let me do it out of sight because he didn't want to admit to needing any medicine.

"He never even accused me in the grip of fever. I saved the Huns from being ruled by a fool. And everyone was quick to believe a tale of ingratitude and dishonor with a Han as the villain. After that, Tianlinn made it so easy I would have had to be a fool to not seize the mantle.

"If I didn't deserve o rule, why was it so easy for me to take the power? I deserved it just as I deserved Zaya," Burilegi spoke under the ghoulish darkness.

Bataar stood, frozen eyes wide and jaw dropping.

"Yes," the ghoul hissed. The green light faded back into its palm and sprang from its outstretched fingertip as lightning. The blots struck Bataar, jerking him around as he fell to his knees.

The ghoul floated up to him as he cried out in pain from the assault still pouring from the monster.

"Yes. You don't die like a confident warrior. You die a man who realizes too late he wasted his life hating the wrong people. Or maybe I lied just now? I mean, why would I just happen to have poison on me?

"Nothing worse fit an avenger than doubt, right? Not knowing whom you should hate," Burilegi laughed as the lightning flickered out.

It began to gather energy anew, no one noticing the mist pouring out of Old Moon's body and drifting down to the grass.

**XXX**

Mulan stepped around a stab and sliced at her opponent. He evaded it expertly. Baring her teeth, she wished she was using her father's sword.

"Getting tired woman?" Lasuluun asked.

"Running out of blood yet?" she shot back.

A green orb flashed from above, dropping between them.

"What?" they asked in unison. The orb hung in the air, green sparks flicking off it as it seemed to turn. With a zing, it darted off, striking Mulan and knocking her off her feet as it burst.

"Aiyah!" she shrieked as it shocked her. Eyes rolling back, she went limp on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Well, it seems higher powers do favor me today," Lasuluun remarked, stepping up to his fallen doe and reversing the grip on his sword. The sound of something cutting through the air gave him enough warning to duck as a shield spun through the spot his head had just occupied.

"RAAAAAA!" Gaitan shouted, charging after his shield, sword raised. Returning his grip, Lasuluun blocked the blow from the bigger man, the shock of the blow traveling up his arms.

Twisting away from each other, the two struck out again, parrying and disengaging. Facing each other, Gaitan scowled at his former comrade while Lasuluun noted the cuts across the other man's arms and bare torso.

"Traitor! Even I didn't think you would go this far! I'll have your head on a spear! Though your corpse is for the dogs and birds," Gaitan cursed.

"Heh, don't play dumb, you have hated me for years. I make a point of knowing those who hate me. So I can kill them if I must," the longhaired man answered solemnly.

"As if you could!" Gaitan roared.

Charging with a swing to slice the traitor in half, he put his power and weight behind it. Lasuluun barely stepped around it, kicking at Gaitan's pivoting foot. The warrior stumbled, trying to keep from falling.

Lasuluun struck upwards, cutting him nearly diagonally from waist to nipple. Stepping into the blow, he struck the wounded man with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The sword jumped from his fingers as he hit the ground.

"Bastard!" Gaitan cursed from his back. Lasuluun planted a foot on the gash, pressing his weight down on it, Gaitan gasped in pain.

"You always looked down on me, for claiming my rights as a warrior. What makes a man who has his way with women with pretty words better than one like me?" Lasuluun demanded looking down.

Gaitan grabbed his ankle with both hands and pulled, rolling on the ground.

"Everything," he said as the startled warrior stumbled to the ground. Pulling himself over, Gaitan grabbed the traitor's leg, and was kicked in the face.

Vision blurring, he saw the traitor start to get up. Getting grabbed by his hair startled him back to lucidity. His opponent was saying something. Couldn't quite make it out, so he just grabbed the bastard's neck.

With ease that surprised himself, he grabbed the sword and swung towards him over Lasuluun's own grip on it.

The two Huns strained against each other, Lasuluun starting to turn red as his free hand pried at Gaitan's grip while Gaitan tried to hold back his opponent's sword.

Lasuluun head butted him, surprising the bigger man more than hurting, but it let him pull the hand away from his throat. Taking a desperate breath he yelled in his would-be choker's face.

"Die already!"

"After you," Mulan said.

SHUNK!

Gaitan watched in confusion as Lasuluun dropped his sword and spat up blood. Something twisted in the other warrior's chest then pulled back through it. Lasuluun fell out of sight and he saw the Han girl standing over him.

"Well done," he slurred.

Mulan caught the Hun as he fell back, easing him to lie down.

"Oh ancestors, where is a doctor when you need one?" she muttered, looking at the blood leaking out of the horrible wound.

A strange whistle cut through the air and she heard canvas and wood rip and splinter. Looking up, she saw the Ger behind them collapse on itself.

"Hachin!"

Unegan stepped over sliced corpses and knocked aside a screaming man clutching a stump arm. Whirling his weapon into a blur, he glared at her.

"Stay with him," she said as she pulled Cri-kee out and tossed him onto Gaitan.

She ran as the wind scythe tore through a stray horse, leaving the animal screaming and thrashing in her wake.

Tracking her with his eyes, Unegan scowled, pursuing at a brisk pace.

Cri-kee pulled at his antenna, looking after them and to the face he was standing on contorted in pain.

"Little one," a voice croaked. Cri-kee spun around and leapt to hide in Gaitan's hair as mist rose from the ground and took shape.

Old Moon's tired face formed from the mist, its one good eye settling on Cri-kee as the bug peeked out from the warrior's hair.

"Little one, my life is almost spent. But my power can still fight, with a vessel, you!" the specter whispered. Stunned, Cri-kee pointed to himself.

"Yes, this power can only be passed to someone of pure intent. And I see your pure desire to be helpful to others.

"The old should not ask the young to take up where they came up short. I have no choice, but you do," the shaman said, a tendril of mist forming into an outstretched finger.

The bug looked to where Mulan had fled and to the stage where he couldn't see, but could feel the darkness that did not belong. He leapt onto the outstretched finger.

"Thank you, use it well," Old Moon whispered. With those words Cri-kee flashed bright and a sudden gust broke up the mist specter. His smile the last thing to go, the image of Old Moon vanished from sight, leaving a glowing cricket enveloped in a white aura.

With a chirp, Cri-kee leapt to Gaitan's chest, landing on the wound. White light surged from him, going from one end of the wound to the other. But he was already gone.

**XXX**

"Coward, fight like a… man," Bataar growled. The Shan-Yu lay on his side, glaring up at his tormentor as green lightning danced between the ghoul's palms.

"I'm hardly a man anymore thanks to you, Bataar. But as much fun as this is, it occurs to me Unegan could still mess up, and sadly I need him for the moment. So once more with feeling!" the ghoul laughed.

A spot of light burst through its head, causing it to drop the energy.

"What!? But he's dead!" The ghoul screamed, clutching the hole in its head.

"You, her bug?" Bataar muttered as Cri-kee landed between him and the monster.

"Pest!" the ghoul spat, its head reforming, but the bright green eye did not return.

Cri-kee gave a deep booming chirp that startled both man and ghoul. And leapt at the monster. It pulled away, but the bug still grazed it, burning away a line of darkness.

"Shaman tricks!" The ghoul cursed. Quick as a snake, its hand struck out, grabbing the lucky bug in a fist. Tightening the fist, the ghoul grinned in anticipation of a crunch. He got another deep loud chirp before his band burst in boiling black, white light flaring.

Rolling off the stage and onto his feet on the ground, Bataar steadied himself.

"Needs Unegan, eh? Well, _him_ I can do something about. Hate to be in debt to a bug on top of everything. Bad day all around," Bataar said to himself.

**XXX**

Unegan paused before the torn canvas wall, no, cut. She had made her own door. Using the stilled scythe, he cut the gap wider, letting him see inside.

"My tent?" he wondered at the revelation. She had led him around? How had he not noticed, he wondered.

Walking into the storage chamber, he glanced around the baskets of food and spices. Nothing; he kicked the door down and stepped out, almost running into Solongo.

"Husband? What is-" she began to ask before her grabbed her by her collar and lifted her clear off the ground.

"Where is she!?" he demanded.

"Who?" Solongo squeaked. He tossed her into a canvas wall that ripped under her impact. Little girls screamed as the woman fell among them. Unegan ripped the tear wider and stepped into the room, all eyes fixed in him.

"Are you hiding her?" he demanded, eyes sweeping over the woman and four trembling girls.

"Unegan! Here I am!" his desired called.

Turning away from the crying in the breach, he saw her stanching at the hall's end. Holding out-

"That! That is mine!" he sputtered. She held his Han figurine in one had and a sword in another.

"Come here and take it back then. And keep that thing from spinning, I won't have these women suffering more from you," she told him. She backed through a door into the main chamber, where she had stolen the Han Lady from her hiding place.

Walking as quickly as he dared, he burst through the doorway. The screens had been kicked over; the room was clear save for the two of them and the central pole.

"I'll put her down if you put that trick blade down," she told him. He dropped the wind scythe; her eyes widened and she looked at him, puzzled.

"Your end now, put her down gently, by the wall," Unegan demanded. Mulan scooted to the wall, keeping her eyes fixed on the Hun as he drew his regular sword from his belt. With some care, she put the figurine down to barely touching the latticework interior of the wall.

Unegan spoke as she made her way back toward the center of the room.

"Father says I have to kill you. It didn't have to be this way!

"Why couldn't you do what I said? It could have been perfect! I would have made you Queen! You could have been her!" he screamed. With the last words he pointed to the ceramic woman.

"I never wanted to be a Queen, I just wanted to…"

"I don't care! It would have been so perfect, but you've ruined it now. When I am Shan-Yu I will have power, I will buy as many Han women as I need until I find the right one," he spat. Mulan lifted her arm, letting him see the mark of a spear wife painted on it. She could hear the leather hilt crackling under his grip.

"People are not dolls for your twisted games!" Mulan hissed.

He didn't say anything, folding his sword for a high strike he charged at her as she fell into stance. He was strong; she couldn't overpower Lasuluun, she couldn't overpower him. But she had seen Lasuluun overpower a stronger swordsman.

Shang had only demonstrated this move once. One chance.

She caught his blade on her own and twisted the blades, praying to anyone who might be listening that it would work. Two swords went flying from their wielders' hands. Unegan looked at his empty hand in surprise. Mulan punched him in his wounded nose, sending him back and followed with a kick to the inside of his shin. The man stumbled and with a below sprang forward, grabbing her and tackling her to the ground.

**XXX**

Dodging between booted feet, Mushu grabbed onto a likely leg and bit down hard. The Hun grunted in pain and grabbed at him.

"I thought you were on our side?" the Hun asked, seeing him.

"I'm on my girl's side!" Mushu shot back.

"And she's with Bataar and so am I!" the warrior protested, his face reddening in anger.

"…Oh yeah, you're one of the guys I busted out. Sorry, y'all look alike to me," Mushu admitted. With a growl, the Hun pulled the dragon off his leg and threw him aside. He landed on the face of a Hun with bushy eyebrows and an equally busty mustache.

"Hey there, mind telling me whose side you are on?" Mushu asked the surprised man.

"A guardian spirit, a guardian spirit is fighting the ghoul!" Someone yelled.

"Say what?" Mushu asked climbing off the man's face onto the top of his head. Putting a hand above his eyes he looked to the stage and saw the big scary ghoul getting knocked around by a ball of light.

"…Cri-kee?! When did you start taking magic, you better have a doctor's note! Ah, who am I kidding, show that dead guy whose dead!" Mushu cheered as the ghoul fell onto its back to avoid getting pierced by Cri-kee again.

Focused as he was, Mushu heard the sound of snapping wood, and failed to realize what it meant. Trailing sparks, Cri-kee zoomed toward the downed evil spirit.

The ghoul swung up at him, a chunk of wooden plank in its hand. Cri-kee rebounded on it and fell to the floor of the stage. The ghoul rose and floated over to him, raising the piece of mundane wood in its black hands.

"Cri-Kee!" Mushu cried.

Thunk-CRUNCH

Mushu watched numbly as the ghoul ground the plank into the platform, moving it side to side. Rising up again, it floated back and through Unegan's tent.

He didn't remember getting through the fight. The next thing the fallen guardian knew he was onstage, in front of the torn piece of wood. Hooking his thumbs under the edge of the wood, he lifted it, arching his thin back.

"Cri-kee?" he whispered, looking under the wood. Sparks illuminated the dragon quickly, and then with a pop it went dark.

Numbness creeping up him, he lowered the plank back down, staring off into space.

"You lucky bug. Didn't I tell you that you couldn't ride on luck forever? No, guess I, I, I… IIIIIAHHH!" Mushu's whisper turned into a howl as he grabbed his ears, pulling hard. Closing his eyes, he clenched his teeth.

Smoke puffed out between his teeth, he let go of his ears, and his eyes opened into slits.

"That's it. Ghoul or no ghoul, this is the last straw! This here, is the brick that broke the camel's back," Mushu ground out through his teeth, smoke rising in puffs from his mouth.

**XXX**

Mulan turned her head as Unegan's blood dripped on her face. She was pinned, her hands held up, holding his wrists. He was too heavy and she couldn't get the angle to throw him off.

Her knee rammed between his legs.

He seized up, and his right hand broke her grip punching her in the face. Breaking free as she saw stars, one hand grabbed her throat while the other went to his boot.

Gasping for breath as his fingers dug into her neck, she grabbed his hand, prying at those fingers. Looking into his pained face, she could tell it had hurt like it was supposed to, but it was like even the pain was being poured into his rage.

The dagger flashed in his free hand as he held it up for her to see.

"You want to be like the widow and her freak women? Well, you can be ugly like them to start with. I'll make your corpse a horror father will shudder to see!" Unegan said. He brought the dagger down towards her wide eyes. Taking a hand from her neck, she grabbed his arm below the wrist. Her elbow was slammed into the ground by the force.

She felt the steel pierce her cheek just below her eyes, easing deeper as she strained against him.

Mulan croaked, releasing the strangling hand to chop his neck with her remaining hand. He ignored it a smile, parting his bleeding face as he stabbed into her face and wrung the life from her.

The blade trembled as he pushed it away from her eye, Mulan wincing as her cheek parted. With a jerk, she stopped struggling, pulling the dagger with her push. The blade bit through her cheek, scraping her jaw before it tore out of her face.

Her hand fell free as the world started to blur about the edges. Through the pain she glared up at the man, watching him raise the dagger. Cackling at her pain, he leered at her, releasing her neck to pin her head by the brow.

"This is the end!" he declared.

"Yes it is," Bataar spoke. A pair of large hands grabbed Unegan's head on both sides. Horror replaced thrill in those mad eyes.

"Wait!" the King of the Left screamed.

"No," Bataar answered.

**Crack**

It took a few seconds of staring at the back of Unegan's head to realize what had happened.

'I thought that sound would be a bit louder,' she thought. Bataar pushed the corpse to the side and looked down at her.

Then fell to his knees next to her, panting. So much for looking impressive.

Mulan ignored him for the moment, pushing herself up to look at Unegan, his corpse. Had the man who had just been killing her really just died? Just like that?

Shouldn't there be something more to it?

"Is he dead?" she asked, hoarsely massaging her throat.

"Unless he has a neck like grass, yes, he is dead. You're welcome," he said, still not looking at her.

"I saved you first, so don't expect me to thank you," she said.

"Typical," he muttered.

"Thanks for that," she said, sitting up. Now he looked at her, his look seemed to say he was too exhausted to tolerate being confused right now.

"I just didn't want you to expect it. Don't take it for granted and all that," she muttered.

"Woman – Mulan – when you dropped a mountain on us, I knew you either had to be exceptionally brave, or insane. The evidence today supports insanity," he chuckled.

"What have you done?!" the ghoul demanded. The doorframe shattered as the ghoul burst through the doorway. Its green eyes darted from the couple on the floor to Unegan's face looking up in frozen horror, above his back.

"A futile effort, because I will just kill you both now!" the ghoul shouted, raising its hands, fire enveloping them.

"Not so fast!" Mushu sprang between the two and the ghoul, smoke trailing from his mouth.

"Oh please, the other one had Old Moon's magic in him. What can a disgraced fake guardian do but die in vain?" the ghoul laughed.

Mushu threw his head forward, a jet of fire pouring from his mouth. It struck the ghoul in the chest, spreading out into an X across it. The stream sputtered and let out, leaving Mushu coughing into a claw.

"Barely tickles," the ghoul commented, brushing at the red flames across it as if they were dust. Not that the crackling flames went out.

"Oh, they aren't supposed to hurt," Mushu smirked, pulling his claws from his face. The dragon snapped his fingers. The flames went out, revealing red chains.

"What?!" the ghoul yelled. The chains tightened, the ends of them shooting into the ground.

"This part hurts," Mushu continued. Flames erupted beneath the ghoul no higher than the low grasses but radiating out into a circle beneath the apparition.

The chains jerked, pulling the ghoul down so the bottom edge of its darkness touched the flames. The fire leapt across the ghoul as if it really were made from oil.

The ghoul thrashed and raged in agony as the burning darkness fell away, leaving only the ghost of Burilegi bound in burning chains.

"A ghoul needs to be anchored to this world. No descendent means you're just another evil spirit, and nothing to hold you here, you cricket killing bastard!" Mushu pointed at the ghost.

"No! My revenge!" Burilegi yelled, leaping against his binds toward Mulan and the Shan-Yu. The chains jerked him up short and began to retract into the ground with a clanking sound.

"This is not the end! My hatred overcomes death; my vendetta spans the ages if it has to! I am the Beast of the Steppes! I am Burilegi!" the ghost raged as its legs disappeared into the burning ground.

"You're dead, start acting like it already," Mulan called out.

"Bataar! Bataar!" Burilegi yelled, scraping at the flames as if for purchase. The further he sank, the more the circle shrank, leaving unscathed carpet in its wake. Bataar watched him impassively, the firelight catching in his eyes as he stood up.

With a final scream of defiance and hate, the apparition's head vanished into the fire. A single flame burned before them, flaring bright.

A silvery hand dyed red by flame burst up through the fire, reaching for the sky. Straining against the pull of mortality, the fingers flexed and reached for nothing as they were slowly pulled down into the shrinking blaze.

The tip of the longest finger seemed to merge with a match sized flame. With a pop that would have been missed had all not gone quiet, both vanished, leaving only a thin trail of smoke fading into the air.

**XXX**

When the last of the fire faded away, Bataar let himself fall into a crouch then back into sitting.

"Mushu saves the day, didn't see that coming," Mulan remarked, lying next to the Hun leader.

"Hey, I'm a guardian spirit, it's what I do," Mushu said seriously. That raised Mulan's eyebrow, why wasn't he celebrating his most impressive achievement to this point?

"So you can breath like that fire now?" she asked.

"Bastard lit a fire. He killed Cri-kee, guess his good luck was for us but not him. Stupid little bug, probably wanted it to work out like that," the dragon sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

"What happened to your face?!" Mushu yelled running over to her. Mulan spat blood out of her mouth wincing as her tongue probed the cut from inside. The taste of hero own blood filled her mouth. She was glad she hadn't eaten earlier, she would probably be throwing it up if she hadn't.

"That's going to leave a nasty scar," Bataar commented.

"Quiet you," Mushu snapped grabbing Mulan remaining silk sleeve he tore it off the dress and pulled it off over her arm. Looking at her he stopped.

"How do you wrap a bandage around a face?!" he demanded. Mulan pulled the silk away from him and made to press it against the bleeding cut.

"Wait, wipe it off and spread this powder," Bataar said tossing the pouch to her. It landed in Mulan's lap, she looked back at him along with Mushu.

"One of Old Moon's remedies, its good for stopping cuts from bleeding. Its not good enough for stopping you from bleeding to death or something, but it should help here." He watched her wipe her face off and put the silk rag in the pouch covering it with the pale pink powder to spread it on the gash.

"We need to get back to the battle," Bataar interrupted. Mulan watched him try to stand up, with some effort it looked like he was doing it.

"Last I saw that monster was attacking you with weird lightning. Sure you're up to anything besides killing a man from behind?" she asked.

"I feel better already," he snapped back.

"Well, my baby girl doesn't! You stay and watch her, I'll go see what's going on," Mushu ordered. Nodding his head firmly at his own command, the dragon turned and scampered out the door and back down the corridor on his hind legs.

"Did that lizard just give me an order?"

"Dragon," she corrected him. Bracing himself against a tent pole, he looked down at her.

"The horses were your doing?" he asked.

"Yeah, horses seem to like you. So I figured if Mushu told them what was happening and opened the corrals they would figure out the rest," she admitted.

"And the hostages?"

"Mushu freed a few, I figured a coward like Unegan would send his worst warriors to watch them so he could have the best here to face you.

"And before you ask, he freed the children first on my orders. Once the hostages knew the children and young women were safe…" she trailed off, looking at the ceiling.

"And with your little performance, how did you know the ghoul wouldn't just kill you the moment you started going against the plan?"

"I didn't. I just hoped Unegan's obsession would make it hard to actually hurt me for long enough," she admitted

"Enlist for execution, drop a mountain in your own path, and now this. Do any of your bright ideas not involve gambling your life on long odds?" he asked.

"Still here, right?" she shrugged, looking at him.

He chuckled, agreeing without saying so. It turned to a laugh while she smirked, realizing what a ridiculous series of events it all was. It was wilder than any tale that had ever been told to her, and even more unbelievable. Before she knew it she was laughing along with him, only adding to the absurdity.

She hoped it wouldn't rip the wound wider or such, she thought the bleeding had stopped but it stung every time she talked.

"Ahem!" a woman's harsh tone cut through the jollity.

Choeten glared at then through the eye that wasn't swelled shut, Mushu perched on her shoulders, arms crossed over his chest.

"If you two are done celebrating, you might want to know the night is won.

"Something changed when those two left this world, we all felt it. The enemy either fled or threw down their swords. Queen Altan has surrendered too; it looks like she tried to run off after Old Moon… We'll be expecting orders on what to do now shortly," the Hun woman said, stepping back out and closing the door.

**XXX**

The two of them walked out of the tattered tent to a scene not too unlike earlier. Once again men where kneeling captives, but spear wives as well as warriors watched over them in the fading light. And there was no defiance left that Mulan could see in the captives; sullenness, but it really looked like the fight had gone out of them.

'How far did the ghoul's reach go?' she wondered. The people were mingling now, a nervous murmur rising as they carried off the dead and wounded. They would be trying to find out who had perished.

For a tribe already hit by war, the losses would be even bitterer. And she recalled several of Unegan's men had married widows – had those marriages all been loveless, and if the men still lived what would happen next?

Bataar walked past her, stepping up onto the platform, to where Old Moon lay in drying blood on the planks. Oyunbileg and Batu climbed up, looking worn but fine, weapons still in hand.

"What losses?" Bataar asked. He did not take his eyes from the dead shaman as they gave the report.

"Gaitan is hurt, he will have a scar on his chest; but he'll probably be using it to woe women by spring. Choeten's grandfather took a spear to the stomach; he was put down with dignity. Others of course, but fewer than I would have dared hope," Batu reported before the spear wife stepped up.

"They weren't expecting real resistance. They never regained their balance after the prisoners joined the fight. Most of them fled onto the steppes after the darkness lifted, those who couldn't we have rounded up. Shirchin must have escaped with them, his horse is gone," Oyunbileg reported somberly.

"Lasuluun is dead, we put his remains with the other traitors. What do you want done with them?" Batu asked.

"Bury our own with full honors. Old Moon died today, his spirit will see to theirs so we can wait to have a shaman sent here for the proper rites.

"As for the traitors… Give them the standard warrior burials, no praises, no curses this time," Bataar said. Kneeling, he gathered up Old Moon, lifting him like he weighed nothing.

"Even the Pretender and Lasuluun?" Batu raised an eyebrow.

"Him for what he was, and my brother, for what he could have been. No need to anger their spirits into walking," Bataar snapped.

"And of the living?" Batu pressed.

"I will see to Old Moon, he told me how to tend to a shaman's rest. Swift and secret… Hachin will handle the rest," he said.

"I'll what?" Mulan asked, having started to zone out on her feet. She realized Bataar had garnered quite the audience, which now turned their attention on her. She glared after the man as he walked out of sight into the coming night.

Victors and prisoners alike where watching her now, she even saw Qorchi stopping in the midst of leading a brown mare off.

Mushu was nowhere in sight either. Her eyes stung; he was probably seeing to Cri-kee, afraid someone would tread on the poor bug no doubt.

'How did I even get here?' she wondered, tiredly looking out over the battlefield and Huns before her.

"So, Your Majesty, what do we make from this victory?" Oyunbileg demanded. Taking a deep breath, Mulan crossed her arms, showing the scuffed but still recognizable spear she had painted on her arm. A few moments thought and she addressed the Huns.

"Loyal Huns, we have won a great victory, against a corrupt would-be usurper, his pawns, and an evil thought long defeated. It is time to take spoils but show mercy towards fellow Huns as our foes would not!

"Before the sun sets tomorrow, each captive guilty of raising arms against their Shan-Yu must swear an oath of loyalty to Shan-Yu Bataar and to never take up arms against their fellow Huns, ever. They have forfeited the right to live as men of war among their own people. They will retain half their property; the other half will be forfeit to the Shan-Yu to be distributed to those who have proven loyal to him.

"Those who have fled will have twenty days to present themselves and swear the same pledge. Any of their property abandoned here is forfeit without condition. And should they return, they will give up their horse in recognition of the cowardice in fleeing this night. If they do not do this, they will be considered exiled from the lands of the Confederation on pain of death.

"There will be no desecration of the dead, we will bury friend and foe alike, and move on.

"So I decree in my husband's name," Mulan concluded.

There was silence over the crowd. Mulan didn't let herself squirm, trying to imitate Bataar's glare, daring them to question the fact the woman who had been under Unegan's arm an hour ago was giving this order.

She did almost jump when Batu stamped a foot on the wood.

"The Queen has spoken, heed the commands of Hachin!" Batu declared, raising his sword. Oyunbileg glared at her, Mulan returned it, but let her glare slip; she wasn't even going to try and intimidate her. She knew she owed the woman, who had extended her friendship, more than loot from defeated foes.

Oyunbileg gave her a nod so small Mulan would have missed it if she weren't staring at the one-eyed woman's face. The Chief Spear Wife raised her spear up, pointing towards the sky.

"Hachin!" she called out.

"Hachin!" voices called from the crowd. She saw the spear wives scattered through the gathering raise their spears up in imitation of their leader. One by one, then in a wave, they raised their weapons or empty fists into the air in a salute of approval.

"HACHIN!" the word echoed across the steppes.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Well that was a big one. Lots of action; action is not what I do best, but it seems to pass Zim and Jazzqueen. Hope you enjoyed it._

_Just one more chapter to go now: 'Farewells'._

_Long days and pleasant nights to you all._


	17. Farewells

**Disclaimer: **In case you haven't figured it out, I do not own Mulan.

_Betaed:_ by Zim'sMostLoyalServant

_Created with:_ Jazzqueen

* * *

**Farewells**

The last stone clunked into place over the grave, Bataar withdrew his hands from it and stepped back to look over Old Moon's resting place. The lay of the stones declared a benign shaman rested here. As was tradition, the identity of the shaman was not indicated in any way. Their profession dictated a lack of worldly personal ambitions in life, and in death they had no monuments to their achievements, save the words spoken of them by those who remained.

The body had been unbelievably light, too small it had seemed. Something so frail and empty could not have held the man who had been part of his life since before he was born.

Standing over the grave, he half-expected the shaman to announce his presence by hitting him over the head with that stick of his and launch into some meaningless rant on respect and the elderly.

But it wouldn't happen; that stick was broken, it magic gone. Just like this body was a broken husk. The man who had seen more through one eye than everyone else did with two, gone.

Pulling a kusmiss skin off his belt he emptied what was left of it out onto the stones.

"I'm not sure what you would complain about. It being only half full or that I am pouring perfectly good kusmiss out on the ground.

"You were easily the most strange, and annoying, man I have ever met. I think more than half of what you said was a lie and you were never as smart or as old as you claimed.

"But I know I'll miss you, and I know in your own way you tried your best with me, and probably most everything you set yourself too.

"I should probably say something moving and heartfelt now. But frankly, I am tired, hungry, and need to make sure my wife isn't trying to overthrow me before going to sleep.

"Hmm, I think I can make it work with the woman you picked after all. I've lost a lot today, she doesn't make up for it, but she has what I wanted from them at their best. Though it will have to be _her_ choice.

"That was a mistake on your part, sorry. Even I know you can't put reins on the sun and steer it, it has to change its course of it own accord.

"Well, rest in peace, or in women and drink if you can manage that, good old fool," Bataar finished. Tossing the empty skin onto the stones, he turned his back on the tomb and whistled, calling to the stallion that had been grazing nearby.

**XXX**

The lookouts spotted him while he was still far out. Good, though he doubted any of Unegan's dogs would have the spine to try something. So no one challenged or greeted him as he entered the encampment, the night fires already burning.

He received some greetings, but everyone was preoccupied or exhausted from the day. There was no time to waste on ceremony. Rather than Unegan's massive, and somewhat demolished, tent, he found himself heading for his own.

Instinct proved to be reliable yet again, seeing his wife in front of it sitting on a box while Oyunbileg talked with her. Her horse was also tied up; it looked like they had applied some of those herbal muds to its face. A one-eyed horse… perhaps she would regift it to Oyunbileg?

The women looked up as he reached them, and he could see they had been busy while he was gone. The Han woman's wound had been cleaned and stitched. Oyunbileg, like most veterans, had a grasp of basic field healing. Old Moon would have done better, but even he wouldn't have been able to do anything about that scar in the making. It ran from just below the center of her right eye, curving out slightly towards the edge of her face and over her jaw line.

Hmm, mud for the horse but not for the rider? A bit of petty payback on the chief spear wife's part? His thoughts were ended as Oyunbileg stood.

"My Shan-Yu, Shirchin has fled on his horse; he took what supplies were light and able from his tent," she informed him. Bataar closed his eyes, considering this, and frustrated by the conflicted feelings he had at the news.

"Your wife has offered pardon to those rebels who return before-"

"No. Shirchin went too far. Unegan's men and Altan betrayed their rightful ruler; he betrayed the bonds forged in battle and peace since the rebellion.

"If he flees the Confederation's territories he may live to the fullness of his days. But should he return, his life shall be forfeit.

"It is how it must be," he told her. She nodded, acknowledging the declaration, and understanding it was as close as he would come to apologizing to her for it in public. She had been at his side as long as both the men in her life, he knew when she needed her pride unchallenged by compassion.

When she left, he knew it would be to spread the word. She would work herself to exhaustion so that when she lay down to rest, sleep would take her without the chance for regrets and grief to seize her.

A good, strong woman. The type men would either kill for, or loathe for that same strength.

Bataar realized he would need that now more than ever. Ulaan, Lasuluun, and even Old Moon dead, and Shirchin dead to him now as well. It would not be easy to do without so many he had trusted.

'Still,' he thought, looking to where his wife sat looking back at him, 'At least she didn't run off or set an ambush.'

She, Mulan, he reminded himself, spoke up.

"I didn't expect to be forgiven so easily," she admitted.

"Well, a lot of them probably assume your cooperation with Unegan was some cunning plan to betray him after he gave enough rope to hang himself with. Old Moon would have exorcised the ghoul on your revelation alone if Unegan had not come to," Bataar told her.

As a ruler, he knew how people tended to think. In defeat, they either placed blame or tried to spin defeat in the best possible way. Victory, on the other hand, made them prone to forgive otherwise unforgivable recklessness, or even outright mistakes. It was a leader's charge to not be so easily swayed and strive to see the world as it truly was; in either case and everything in between.

"Oyunbileg is angry, but not… hating? I am pretty sure she wants me to get the most out of this in a scar for payback, and she is going to tattoo my arm tomorrow. Says that I have to after wearing the mark in battle. Anything less than a lasting mark and she would have to either kill me, or take my horse," she told him.

"She is a strange one. Perhaps she is angry but after losing a husband and a companion from childhood turned lover, she would rather have another friend than a corpse? Since her husband died as a result and she has forgiven you, others will feel obligated to follow her lead," he shrugged.

"I was talking about the pass before. They know I stole your victory. Killed so many men of this tribe and others," she reminded him.

"Well, now I have to admit to being defeated by a woman. They aren't trying to kill you right now, so it's unlikely to happen tomorrow either. As for the other tribes, as I said, this revelation affects me as well, so we will both have to deal with it. Probably in the spring.

"I'll need to call another Summit in the spring to select a new King of the Left," he muttered, already dreading the politicking and wondering what he might have to concede.

It was too much for one night, so without another word he slipped into his tent. To his surprise, Mulan followed him, closing the door behind her.

"You plan on sleeping here?" he asked.

"Where else? Unegan's tent with three angry wives, or Oyunbileg who just might change her mind about revenge while I'm asleep?"

"Oyunbileg is stubborn; she will not change her curse that easily," he answered. Going to the latticework on the wall, he pulled a skin of kusmiss off and took a pull. Without thinking, he tossed it to his wife as she rummaged around.

"Anything to eat?" she asked, catching the skin.

"No," he answered.

He started a fire in the oven, a small one, it would not last too long but just now he felt the light and warmth was needed. The air was not right for rest, as his wife sipped the alcohol sitting down next to him.

"I prefer the stuff Choeten drinks," she told him, handing it back.

"Not surprising," he answered shortly. The silence stretched; he wondered when she would break it, because he had no intention of doing so. Fortunately, she spoke up soon enough.

"The one thing you made clear before… going off, was that the traitor and your brother not be disgraced. Why?" she asked.

"I thought I told you, Lasuluun was a good man, once. And he served me well until this treachery. His past may not excuse his betrayal, but it doesn't reduce it to nothing either. Did you know he saved Oyunbileg at the Battle of Mists? He didn't like her but she was a comrade and that mattered more to him, then.

"He was always a dark man, but that darkness I suppose just grew until it was greater than the man who held it. What happened with you was probably just the final push over the ledge. Still, his death is on your hands in more ways than one," he told her.

"And Unegan? It seems to me you never had anything but contempt for him," she pressed. He had hoped she wouldn't go there. He wondered if Old Moon was prodding her from beyond the grave, it was the kind of sore spot the shaman would have worked.

"He was my brother," he answered. There must have been something strange in his voice because she fixed him with the oddest look.

"Half brother," she reminded him.

"The same could be said for Bharbo. For all my brothers and sisters. The difference is, I could have done something for Unegan and didn't."

He stared into the small fire, searching for the way to say it. For her part, Mulan waited for him to speak.

"I felt when my mother died. I didn't see it in a vision, or some sign from nature, somehow I just knew. Her spirit never came to Old Moon's summons. Only a shaman can speak with a spirit that knew them in life. Save for those who cheat like ghouls and other corrupt spirits. But through him I hoped…

"It doesn't matter, because she never came. I was convinced without doubt it was because I had not avenged her fully, avenged our family. But now, I think it was Unegan, her son that I abandoned to madness and despair.

"I saw him as Burilegi's son, a disgrace to our bloodline, and a reminder of what my mother endured. But he was as much Zaya's son as his. My only living brother, my family.

"He was spoiled and foolish, but he was not a monster or mad man then. Perhaps had I left him something more than a doll his wicked father had tossed to him, his despair would hot have called Burilegi back?" he wondered.

"Or he would still have been a monster, without his father's help," she told him. She wasn't sure if that meant to be comforting, it just seemed to need to be said.

"True, but I did nothing and my brother became a twisted child who never grew up and died alone with a legacy of treachery and madness. Someday I will die and face my mother with that sin against her memory over my head.

"A decent burial may be more than her deserves, or it may be a small piece of what I should have done for him. All I know is death means you don't get to try again," Bataar said.

"…

"Burilegi told me he poisoned Bharbo."

"What?" Mulan snapped back to full awareness.

"He said he might not have as well. But I can't say with certainty your father is without honor now. Not when it could have gone either way."

"He still defeated your father," she reminded him.

"Yes, but that was not without honor. Much as it pains me to admit it. When word spreads I will have that tale told. Fa Zhu's name may still be a curse, but an honorable enemy rather than a trickster in time, perhaps," he admitted.

"I miss him."

"I miss my own father despite having known him little for a son. That's no surprise, for you to miss your father," he told her awkwardly.

"You are not going to let me go, are you?" she asked. He did not take even a moment to think about it.

"No," he answered.

"Some gratitude," she cursed, while feeling like she should laugh too.

"You just became a legend, and gave quite a bit of credence to everything Old Moon said about you. That doesn't exactly motivate me to let such an asset slip away now does it?" he answered. He looked at her with a raised brow, challenging her to disagree. She accepted that challenge.

"Well, some men might thank me for saving their life, and their people, from an evil spirit tyrant, by granting me a boon," she told him.

"Alright, what boon would you ask?" he chuckled.

"That you never invade China again. Not for so long as you live," she answered quickly.

"Well…" he remarked.

"Conquer in any other direction, go around it to attack the hot lands to the south or the land of the morning calm. But China is not on your list, you tried it once already, and failed," she told him.

"…I was expecting you to ask for freedom again," he commented.

"I could always escape, but I think you would keep your word even if I did," Mulan said, taking a sip from the skin and coughing.

"Trusting me, are we?" he asked.

"You're not a trickster, or an oath breaker. Whatever else you are, you are upfront and honest in your intentions. When you invaded China, you came over the Wall with an army, and killed everything in your path," she scowled. He took the skin back from her, taking a drink.

"Was that an insult or a compliment?" he asked, curious.

"I don't know. I still hate you for killing innocents, but then my friends deserted me for being a woman. Shang nearly killed me! He told me 'A life for a life, my debt is repaid.'

"I saved him _twice!_ Once from you and your army, and then from the avalanche. And what about the rest of them? They were getting ready to die with honor when I killed your army. The war never reached he Emperor at all, because of me.

"So what do I get? I get left behind in the snow, with a patched wound, for the likes of you to carry home like I was a sack of rice.

"You know, if either you or him had just killed me it would have been a lot simpler!" she said.

"…You've had enough," he said, tossing the kusmiss aside.

"If I ran, would you chase after me? I don't know, I think I could get away. Your best option would be to act like it was your idea for me to go if, I gave you the slip," she muttered.

"I am going to sleep, try not kill me before morning," Bataar told her, pulling his boots off.

Mulan watched him undress. Not that it was much, besides shirtless. Hmm, not quite as good as Shang, but bigger, very much bigger. It was a wheat versus rice thing, not fair to compare.

'These are the kinds of thoughts you get when you need sleep and the only thing in your stomach is rancid horse milk.'

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, letting her find her center.

This _would_ be the perfect time. Bataar would sleep for a good while, and no one would question her actions after that speech; with Min and Mushu, she could make good time commandeering any and all needed supplies.

The odds were even that Bataar would let her go. Despite his claims, the facts showed he did have honor, however twisted. And was it as twisted as it had been?

There had been no need to tell her about Burilegi's confession, to clear her father's name. He could have been silent and she and the world would have gone on, with only the legend of Fa Zhu and his poisoned sword of dishonor.

Shang's honor had made him spare her life, and abandon her despite all she had done for him and China. The man in this tent's honor had not been subject to any witness, yet he had shown her mercy by revealing a truth that lifted up his enemies, including her.

Mulan thought of going home.

Mother, Grandmother, Khan, Little Brother, and Father; they would all be so glad to see her! It would be like returning from the dead, a joyful reunion despite all she had done. They did love her, despite quarrels and disappointments.

It was a happy picture her mind painted. But that was not the end of the story.

The world would not change for her. Life would go on and she would still be destined to marry a man chosen by the matchmaker, and approved by her father and the groom's patriarch. Once again having to either wear the mask to fool the world, or break her family's heart.

She would choose the mask, because she loved them. Not that the mask could cover the scar. Even the matchmaker had admitted she could look like a bride. But not now – the scar Unegan left would make her unappealing to every man and a subject of mockery or pity amongst women.

A match would still be found, of course, she was the daughter of a great hero. Men would look past her to the honor her father's blood would bring to them and their family. Even if it wasn't some fat old man to finally accept her as a bride, it would never be about her.

To honor her family she would serve him, bear him children. Praying for sons who would at best be men like Shang or daughters to follow her in wearing masks if their true faces did not match what was expected.

She would live and die, daughter, wife, and mother, everything defined by someone else. A life bound by high walls and paved paths long raised and laid to dictate what she was allowed to be.

That was the life of Fa Mulan, the only daughter of Fa Zhu, tragically scarred.

The Huns would see the same scar, and there would still be disgust and pity. But also respect, however grudging; they would say she got that scar fighting Unegan alongside Bataar. How she fought, survived, and they had lifted her name up in salute.

The life of Hachin might end shortly at the hands of a Hun avenger. Or it could see her as a queen whose king showed her respect if not love. Women who would admire her for what she had done, along with those who looked down on it. And even men who would see her true face and not strike it with outrage.

Dangerous and unknown, like the steppes where no walls rose and only faint trails offered guidance under a vast sky.

Certainty, or possibility?

'He may not be the one I would have chosen, but he has given me choices of his own will. That is not something you just dismiss.

'…Father forgive me.'

Bataar was drifting to seep when a small hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Eyes snapping open and one hand flying to the dagger close at hand, he stopped, recognizing his wife's face.

"What?" he growled. The snarl slipped into puzzlement as he noticed something. She was standing over him naked.

Stunned, he watched her lift up the fur covering and slip into the bed. She kept her eyes on him, weighing him? It was a relief when she spoke.

"Take off your pants, then be quiet," she told him.

Was it odd he didn't mind obeying that order?

**XXX**

The side of Bataar's tent ripped near the ground, and Mushu exited through it walking unnaturally straight, eyes very wide, and pupils small. After walking a ways, he bent his arms up at the elbows and made fists.

"Egggghhhhh!" he groaned as he bent down at his waist until his elbows touched his knees. Snapping back up, he repeated the motion and sound.

"Egggghhhh!"

"Egggghhhh!"

"Egggghhhh!" the dragon repeated. As he snapped back up for another go, a silvery staff head knocked him over the head. Falling to the ground, he looked up and saw Old Moon's spirit glaring down at him.

"Lizard! Do you mind?! You're spoiling the festive atmosphere!" the dead shaman scolded.

"Festive? What are you- oh," Mushu demanded, rubbing his head. Looking around, he saw the camp was lousy with spirits invisible to the mortals. And they seemed to be having a party, sharing ghostly goblets and haunches of meat.

"What are you celebrating?" Mushu demanded. Old Moon bowed aside as Modu swept into view, looking down on Mushu as he stroked his facial hair.

"Reunions. A battle is a time for farewells for the living, but for the dead it welcomes those left behind and descendants long removed into the fold. Now we gather them up and with morning's light help them on their way into what lies beyond," the ancient Shan-Yu explained.

"Huh. Well, I guess you're officially my boss now, right? So you going to turn me back into metal?" Mushu wondered.

"We don't contain spirits, we have pacts with them. You can hang around like Suren for so long as Hachin lives. It is a special case.

"You going to miss China?" Modu asked.

"Of course! Stupid question. But even if I could, what do I go back to? The Fa ancestors would kill me for letting Mulan get scarred and hitched to a Hun warlord," Mushu complained.

"Well, good thing you can't go back then! You are too amusing a spirit to die. Personally, things can get boring around here," Modu whispered, leaning in close to Mushu, hand held up beside his mouth.

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" Mushu told him. Straightening up, Modu took a deep breath, his form growing a darker, smokier color. In a booming voice, he addressed the guardian dragon and shaman spirit.

"Now if you will excuse me!" he boomed. Reaching behind himself, he pulled out a large dress adorned with bells, also for ghosts, since it was semitransparent.

"I have initiations to attend to," Modu told them. With that, he was gone into the press of spirits.

"I can tell this is going to be a bit different from working for the Fas," Mushu muttered.

"Good different or bad different?" Old Moon asked. Mushu shook his hand both ways by way of answer.

"Chirp!"

"You say something?" Mushu asked Old Moon, whose grin widened. He thrust his fist toward Mushu, almost punching the dragon, who recoiled, holding his hands up defensively.

"No, but he did," Old Moon laughed. The fist opened, dropping a silvery Cri-kee to the ground.

"Little Buddy?!" Mushu cheered in disbelief. Cri-kee chirped again, jumping up to be caught by Mushu.

"You?" Mushu asked Old Moon, clearly stunned.

"I was able to bend the rules a little since he was infused with my magic. But as neither of us have descendants, we have to go with the morning, I am afraid. You can bet that we will be looking in and dropping a word if the opportunity arises, but this is a big goodbye. And things were just getting interesting, too.

"The kid did good, lizard, give him a proper send off. As for me, my improbable gambit paid off, so I'm off to celebrate by seeing how my boy is doing in there, and then get to some serious drinking," Old Moon declared. The cricket spirit and dragon watched Old Moon float off, humming to himself as he went for Bataar's tent.

Mushu's head snapped to the side with realization.

"Oh, nononono! No dead old guy is peeping on my baby girl!

"Cri-kee, get the party started, I'll need some serous tunes to forget what big mean and scary is doing with Mulan! GET BACK HERE YOU DIRTY OLD MAN!" Mushu yelled, running after the ghost.

Cri-kee shrugged then flexed, raising mist around him. The mist cleared, revealing a set of drums and sticks held in his appendages. He grinned and raised the sticks while fire and yelling erupted behind him.

**XXX**

Ulaan drifted through the mourning and the celebrations. With the ghoul gone he could finally do what he needed to.

Being dead was not as big of a change as he had expected, though he had yet to move on, he supposed.

He had recognized Modu's spirit by some mystic instinct. Had watched as the first Shan-Yu stalked with Unegan's spirit and sent him on his way with a touch. Unegan had seemed neither pleased nor terrified, simply reluctant and exhausted.

He had entertained the notion of searching for Lasuluun's spirit, but the man had died by the hands of the woman. That seemed vengeance enough.

Reaching his tent, his _former_ tent, he paused before the entrance. It was strange; it could have been any other time he had returned. Save for his hand passing through the closed entrance. With a sigh, he entered, his wife and son immediately spotted, curled up on the bed.

He considered his wife. He supposed he should comfort her somehow. But he did not know what to say that would be both the truth and a comfort. He had not been a great husband in life. And he doubted death improved it.

But he owed the boy, Qorchi.

Kneeling beside them, he placed a hand he could see through on Qorchi's hair.

"I am sorry I was not a better father. You may think you were somehow lacking as a son, but you were not. I could place my doubts and blame on your mother or Shirchin, but the choices were mine. You called me father, despite your blood that should have been enough.

"I gave her permission, but required it to be honest between us. When she kept it a secret it seemed a double betrayal.

"But I was never even sure whether you were mine or his. Or was that just an excuse to keep you at arm's length?

"Not that it matters; you were innocent, and however much Shirchin may have won your admiration, I was the one you called father. For a better man, that would have been more than enough.

"If you want me to be proud, that is all I ask. Be a better man than either of us.

"…I should probably say something else. But I don't know what. So farewell, and look after your mother; she can be a bit stupid when her emotions get the better of her," Ulaan told Qorchi. Oyunbileg stirred and grumbled at the last words.

Ulaan smiled at that before looking at Qorchi's sleeping face, surprised to see a smile growing on it.

With a matching smile of his own, Ulaan lifted his hand, and vanished in a flash of blue light.

_China_:

Shang looked over the scroll as he waited for the ink to dry. A letter of honorable discharge.

He recalled when he had written something similar, but utterly different. A letter of dishonorable discharge, for one Fa Ping.

Such a dishonor was reserved for troops so incompetent, they were unfit to even catch arrows and die for the Emperor. Men who posed more risk to the Emperor's forces than the enemy, but did not warrant an execution.

Fa Ping had been the definition of that. A failure at every exercise, and a cheater. A troublemaker whose unpopularity with the regiment made them even more unruly, and disrupted the training. As Chifu pointed out with rare accuracy, the runt was dragging everything down.

But still, he had been reluctant. A student's failure reflected on the teacher. And it would be said he had failed to turn Fa Zhu's son into a warrior. And he could see the desperation in the boy's eyes. He was very familiar with the need to not fail a father.

It was a lesson from one of his last instructors that made him write that letter.

"An officer's duty is to spend the lives of the troops under his command wisely. Men will die following your orders, and you owe it to them to spend their lives well. Should you ever doubt the fate you choose for them, ask yourself this. If you had to face the father of a man who died under your command, could you tell him how and why his son died without shame?"

He would not be able to face Fa Zhu and tell him his son died because he was a weakling unfit to serve, and because of Shang's pride.

This letter, however, released a man from service with honor. In this case, a hero of battle who rather than promotion had asked to simply go home.

Normally such a request would be politely denied. But Shang wanted to do right by at least one of his soldiers.

"Here you are, Chien Po, as of now you have left the Emperor's service. You can collect your bonus for the battle and your total pay from the chest masters. The horse is yours to keep as well," he told the now former soldier.

The giant gave a deep sigh of relief, barely fitting into the chair he was perched on. They were sitting around the table in Shang's personal tent. Not as grand as the command tent, but comfortable enough for his needs.

With the town taken and the enemy routed, he could have claimed an inn room. But he let his officers fight that matter out among themselves. He would sooner quarter in the midst of his army, than a town recently held by rebels. Most of the veteran officers, he noted, followed the same logic.

Today they had seen the giant man's potential as a killing force unleashed. He wished he hadn't. The glorious turn on the battlefield had led to the most serene of his men sitting here, looking lost, and broken.

'We're all a bit broken, I think. No lessons or training prepare you for the reality of war,' Shang thought.

"Do you have plans?" He asked.

"I am thinking of using the money to buy an apprenticeship with a carpenter. My village doesn't have many craftsmen and I think opening a shop there would help the people," Chien Po answered, looking off.

"I thought you were training to be a monk?" Shang asked, surprised at the answer. Chien Po lifted his hands and looked at them.

"I think I need to give something back to the world, rather than leaving it behind, Colonel," the young man answered simply.

"I wish you good fortune with it. You have brought honor to your family, and I have every confidence you will continue to do so wherever life takes you," Shang told him. It was a polite compliment, but he did mean it. The large man recognized the dismissal and rose from the chair, and looked at him with a smile.

"Since I am no longer your subordinate, may I speak to you as one man to another?" Chien Po asked. The colonel felt his mouth run dry; was he about to get an upfront declaration of the sort he knew Ling and Yao longed to deliver? Still, it was not like he hadn't earned it, he nodded his head.

"You spared Mulan's life, whatever happened is not your fault," the former soldier said. Shang felt his mouth drop open. Chien Po was easily the most forgiving man in the regiment, possibly the army, but this?

"Chien Po, she died because I left her behind. I could have at least had her taken to an inn and left in the care of others on the way to the capital," Shang defended his guilt.

"Perhaps, but if you hadn't gotten her away from Chifu, he would likely have regained enough mettle to press the issue. Would anyone but those men in the pass have accepted a lowly captain overruling a Counselor and the Martial Laws for a lying woman?

"You made a hard decision you were not prepared for. You could have done better, but that doesn't mean you didn't try your best.

"And I do not think she is dead. In one day she survived the Hun army, the avalanche, and the law; our friend will not leave this world so easily," Chien Po assured him.

'Then why wouldn't she have gone home?' Shang was tempted to snap. But no, despite the evidence against, he could not throw this man's generosity back in his face. And maybe his was an indulgence that helped the other man go on. He would not deny the man that.

"I think we haven't seen the last of her. My gut tells me her tale is far from done, and we may yet a part to play," Chien Po continued, smiling.

Shang was ashamed that the thought did not comfort him. Seeing her again tied his stomach in a knot. Relief that his crime was not as great as he feared, and having to face the one he had wronged.

The Emperor had already built a legend about him, which was rising with this campaign reaching a triumphant end. She would know he had achieved his rank and high honors by helping the Empire bury the great things she had done for China.

No, he thought as the man left, closing the door behind him. As much as he regretted what he had done, meeting her again would be a terrible thing. His duty would be to kill her to protect the Emperor's credibility from the truth, or dishonor his family by admitting his shame.

'If you are alive, Mulan, may it be like the Emperor wanted. A peaceful life, to live happily and be forgotten. That would be best for everyone, even though you deserved better.'

Banishing the thoughts of the boy who had been a girl, he found he could not focus on the maps brought up to him earlier. Instead, he rose and walked to his desk opening a cabinet to take out a scroll.

He unrolled it, revealing an ink drawing of a woman in a very formal dress. To the side, the family matchmaker had written her report. The elders had already decided, but he could still say no, if this bride was not to his liking. Not that he would; if what the scroll said was true, there was no flaw in this woman that he could complain against.

A perfect bride for the great hero of China. A man likely to be promoted to General once the court had a valid reason to do so.

It made him wish he were still that Captain dreaming of stepping out of his father's shadow someday.

**XXX**

Chien Po left the stable, leading his massive horse as the sun rose. He would be riding with a caravan; bandits had started to move in, following the trail of the fighting. This way was safer for him and the wagon drivers.

He was unsurprised to find an ambush of sorts waiting for him in the makeshift stable yard.

"You big lunk, did you think you could slip out without one last drink?" Ling taunted, holding out a clay bottle bound by straw bands. Uncorking it, he took a whiff and flinched at the odor.

"Told you I picked a good one," Yao laughed.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you back home after the fighting is done?" Chien Po asked Yao. Yao snatched the bottle from the coughing Ling and took a swig.

"Ahh! No, big guy. Fact is, fighting is about the only thing I've ever been good at. Going back to working the fields and picking fights for the rest of my life doesn't appeal. I'm going career; figure as a sergeant I can do pretty well for myself in the army," Yao told him.

Ling snatched the bottle back and made to take a drink, only to cough again. Looking at the bottle with disgust, he held it out and looked at Yao.

"Poor taste in drinks aside, I agree. But I'm going for officer! My father wants me to take over the tavern, but spending my life surrounded by and cleaning up after drunks, no thanks. I want to climb the ranks until I can retire and be one of those cushy bureaucrats with a fancy hat and a pretty wife," Ling said, looking off longingly.

"Pfft, please, like you could pass for one of them?" Yao rolled his eyes.

"Hey, at least I have ambition. Chien Po might be happy in the provinces, and you with going off to fight till you drop, but not me. I want to go places and be a little bit of something before I'm done," Ling gave the bottle to Chien Po.

The giant took a sip before grimacing. Then swept the two up from their pre-argument in a bear hug.

"Be safe on the roads you walk, my friends," he told them.

"You could help us with that!" Ling croaked.

"Air!" Yao gasped.

Soon enough the goodbyes were said, the bottle of awful subtly poured out on the mud, and Chien Po leading his horse out alongside the wagons.

He did not look back at the encampment; his eyes were toward the horizon, and his home somewhere over it. He could almost feel a chapter of his life closing. It was not a pleasant one, but nor would he wish it undone. It was life – good, bad, and some things you can't easily put a label on.

He wondered which horizon his lost friend was over. Whichever it was, she was brave and clever enough to work something out for herself. He would ask her about it when they met again.

But for now it was time to look to the future, like a nice pork dinner maybe?

**XXX**

Hachin awoke with a groan. She felt stiff.

Looking around, she realized where she was, specifically what bed, and remembered. Lifting the fur, she looked under it at herself.

"Oh, well," she said to herself.

"…That was better than mother made it sound," she told no one in particular. Pulling herself out of the bedding, she shivered. Sleeping naked… not a good idea, for future reference. Looking around, she saw a plate with some breakfast laid out on it, and a spear wife's attire folded next to it.

"Well at least he didn't just leave after waking up," she commented.

**XXX**

Opening the door, she heard Bataar arguing with a surprising voice.

"All I am saying is that you have a responsibility. In more ways than one, I might add," Khongordzol said.

"I will tell you politely one more time. I don't need, much less _want_ more wives. One wife is trouble enough," Bataar responded. He sounded very irritated, but she smiled at the comment. That could be taken as an insult, or that he wasn't trying to keep his options open.

Opening the door more, she saw Unegan's wealthy wives standing before the Shan-Yu in all their fancy glory, with the assorted daughters behind them being watched over by the lower wives. The girls were subdued, but she was glad to see Odgerel up and about, even though she was still staring off into space.

"Our husband, your brother, is dead. As we have no sons, you are responsible for our wellbeing now," the former chief wife pressed.

"As if you didn't know what he was plotting. Can you give me one good reason not to send you back to your families in disgrace?" Bataar demanded, crossing his arms.

"I can," Hachin spoke up. Pushing the door fully open, she watched the women get a look at her.

The chief wife and her hanger-ons managed to suppress the scowls at her clothes and unkempt hair, while the two aware lower wives seemed relieved to see her.

"Auntie Hachin!" one of the girls called. One of the hanger-ons turned swiftly and smacked the girl on the head.

"Quiet while the adults are talking," she commanded in a hiss.

Well, that made this easier. Bataar turned to face her, arms still crossed but half grinning now.

"Really? You have some use for them?" he inquired, pointing to them with a thumb.

"Yes. I am not much of a housekeeper, and I will need to help you manage your new and old holdings with the loss of so many of your faithful followers.

"If you will not have them as wives, at least take them in as servants. Just until you can find them acceptable husbands. Until then, good honest labor and tending to their children will help them through the grief of losing their husband," Hachin told him sweetly. She didn't look at him though; she watched the fancy women's expressions fall with each word.

Unsurprisingly, Khongordzol gathered herself quickly with a smile.

"Of course these three are well suited for such a task. And while they labor, we three can place a dowry from our husband's estate and seek…"

"Oh no, everything that was his belongs to Shan-Yu Bataar now. Of course you may ask him for a return of the essentials, so much of it must be sentimental and would be such a burden for you. And of course he will handle selecting husbands for you, he is a very good judge of men," Hachin smiled, waving off the suggestion.

Bataar looked to where a potbellied veteran with a mostly hairless head and a broken nose spat before taking a deep swig from a kusmiss jug.

"I may have some fine warriors in mind already," he chimed in, smiling.

"Now I understand those three behind you have experience with the kind of work I need done in the household, so you will report to them," Hachin said, indicating the lower wives. Dalan and Solongo perked up in surprise, and Odgerel actually looked at her.

"But also… In my homeland it is unacceptable for women to out dress the matriarch. As I have neither possession of nor interest in such jewels and finery we will need to dispose of them."

"Did you ever give Batu and Choeten a wedding present?" Bataar asked.

"No, I didn't. There we are then; gather up your silks, jewels, and anything fancier than what is in my wardrobe and deliver it to Choeten. In fact, dear husband, summon Choeten to see to it we have these women settled."

"We'll need more tents," he realized, fiddling with his mustache.

It annoyed her as she walked away that the trio of spoiled women politely begged Bataar to change his mind. It had been _her_ idea after all. Oh well, there would be time to put those bullies in their place.

A hand grabbing her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts. She grabbed the hand and nearly flipped the woman over her, before realizing who it was. She let the hand go and turned around.

"Ouch," Odgerel said, massaging the hand Hachin had grabbed.

"Sorry!" Mulan said, bowing slightly to the other woman. Odgerel ignored her, studying her hand as if she hadn't heard.

Cursing Unegan again in her head, Hachin turned away from the broken woman.

"Thank you," Odgerel spoke up. Stunned into stillness, Hachin turned around quickly, but the Hun woman was already briskly walking back to the others as Bataar made large gestures at the unhappy formerly high wives.

**XXX**

She found Altan in a tent under guard. She hoped not all the other woman's guards had been killed; hopefully they were just being held elsewhere.

The tent was bare save for the blanket the woman from the west sat on, so Hachin seated herself in the floor. To her surprise, the blue-eyed woman spoke as soon as she settled.

"Your Majesty, just the woman I wanted to see," Altan greeted.

"Queen Altan," Hachin greeted.

"Not anymore. Bataar has stripped me of that rank. The title of Queen will go to another wife of my husband's choosing," the older woman told her.

"I'm sorry," Hachin apologized.

"Don't be. Old Moon appeared to me in a vision last night. He wasn't angry at all, he showed me Nara – I saw her wake up as if from a nightmare, terrified and confused. But her father was with her and he calmed her. She's alive, Hachin, thanks to you, and in spite of my mistakes.

"But he also told me she had been touched by the other side deeply, and that mark would stay with her for the rest of her days. Deathly pale skin, hair the color of snow, and eyes red as blood; people will see that before they see who she is. And I don't trust my own tribe with her after this mess, much less after my fall from grace.

"Yes, Coyot would protect her. But it is not fair to place such a burden on him when he has to also distance himself from me. Given the choice between being a traitor or a weak idiot woman controlled by the ghoul, I have chosen to stay alive, at the price of my pride and reputation.

"It shields my family from treason, but I'll be a pariah for a good while," Altan explained. Mulan looked away; this woman was too casual with important matters for her liking. But she put her family first; the Queen respected that.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked the fallen queen.

"Yes – as part of the reconciliation I want you to request Nara become your ward."

"What?!"

"Why not? In theory, she would be a hostage so the other chieftains will think the mighty King of the Right chastised. But she will be safer from the ignorant under Bataar's protection. Also, you are gong to be the most powerful woman in the Confederation, my girl could use a new role model," Altan smiled.

"Aiyah, I get the feeling the lack of a title will not affect your power very long Altan," Hachin sighed.

"Why, whatever power is that? As a mere woman, naturally all power and decisions rest with my mighty husband," Altan chuckled.

'There is no way I won't end up agreeing to this is there?' the Queen thought. Unegan's wives, the nieces, and now Coyot's daughter. The other women would have to share a tent – neither her nor Bataar would be able get anything done with that lot underfoot constantly, she decided.

_China_:

Fa Zhu kneeled in the family garden and unwrapped the package with care. The cloth fell away to reveal the new incense burner to replace the dragon. Though this was no dragon, the smith had done fine work on his order.

An orange blossom, like the one he had put into his daughter's hair that day, when they sat in their spot in the garden.

The dragon symbolized greatness, leadership, and many forms of power, including wisdom. To him, if no one else, the new receptacle for prayer symbolized something for more important.

"It's lovely," Fa Li spoke behind him. He lifted it up and she took it from him, putting it in its place and selecting a stick of incense. His leg twinged even from this position; the coming of winter would make it far worse, he knew.

Turning back had been the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. It felt like he was abandoning Mulan, as the rest of the world had. But with his new injury, and the loss of Khan, he knew the north would be the death of him.

He could not save his daughter. That was what he, in his pride, had not wanted to see. He had failed her; there was no disguising that, not only in rescuing her, either. He had failed by setting her desperate actions into motion. She was his most sacred responsibility, his greatest honor, and he had failed her.

But dying a pointless death for her would only compound his failure by leaving the family with further heartbreak.

His return had been greeted with courtesy, and no questions. No, the questions were there, but they hung unasked in the air.

Until now, he had a feeling, watching his wife kneel beside him through the reflections on the polished stone.

"We need to have the stonecutter-" she began.

"No," he cut her off.

"My dear husband, Zhu. You have done more than any would have required of you, it is time to lay our daughter to rest. Let her take her place among the ancestors," she pleaded calmly.

"When I believe my daughter is dead, then I will carve her name into the stone with my own hands. But not a day, not an hour before," he answered. He saw her flinch at his tone; he hated himself for that. He could not imagine the pain a mother would have for losing their child, having carried them into the world.

But this was not a place he would give ground. Not even to her.

"You could not find her," she reminded him.

"Nor did I find any proof she was dead.

"To mark her among the dead when she still lives, would be a betrayal of faith. If all I can do for Mulan is await her return, then I will wait," he told her.

She shook her head sadly and rose, leaving him alone with his ancestors.

Sighing, he reached out and placed his hand on the cold stone, reading the names of those who had come before in silence.

"Honorable ancestors, I have faith that my daughter lives. That you give her protection to match her peril and courage both. I would pray that she will indeed return, but I know that is a selfish prayer.

"I ask instead, that you help her find happiness. If that brings her back, I shall rejoice. If it means we will not meet again in this life, I accept," he prayed.

The characters beneath his hands began to glow blue as the stone warmed. Unable to even breathe in his shock, he watched the light retreat from the writing into the depth of the stone, as if he were looking into an ice-covered pond.

The dancing blue lights came together, and took form.

"Mulan," he breathed as the light that formed her turned from blue into brilliant sunlight. She smiled in happiness, and with a flash was gone. Leaving him staring wide-eyed at his own reflection.

Was that…?

A vision born of his grief? No, the warmth was real; it lingered under his hand.

Taking his hand away, he kowtowed the ancestor tablets, touching his brow to the floor in gratitude.

Only a glimpse, enough to recognize her and realize one more thing – in the vision she had been heavy with child, and happy.

The questions were still many, and the fears would return very soon, he knew. But for this moment, he was a father happy with the answer he had received.

_The Steppes:_

Gaitan groaned as the wagon lurched into motion, the Ger around him shaking. It wasn't just the humiliation of having to ride in one of these. It was the presence of his… attendants. Nearly all of the late Unegan's daughters were sharing the space with him. And taking a quick shine to watching over his condition.

"There is nothing wrong with my arm," he insisted to a little girl with a blue dress and two tight braids. She was wrapping a long cloth bandage along his bicep.

"I know," she answered.

"Then why?" he demanded, putting a hand, bandaged, to his face.

"Because the others already go the hurt spots! I want to play too," she pouted. She fixed him with average, resolution destroying, eyes. He looked to the only other adult present for aid.

"Hachin!" he called as the woman opened the door and looked back at him. The scar was still an angry red, but mending beneath the stitches. He hair was pulled back in a single loose braid, showing off a face he still thought was quite pretty despite the forming scar.

But he would swear she looked like pure evil grinning at him right now!

"Gaitan, you surprise me. What real man would object to having his wounds tenderly seen to by a bunch of pretty girls?" she asked sweetly.

Hachin ducked out, closing the door behind her. But not before hearing at least two of the girls ask Gaitan if he was upset because they were not pretty.

Crouching on the narrow ledge of the slow moving wagon, she stifled her laughter with a hand.

"So, how is he doing today?" Batu called. He and Choeten were keeping pace with the wagon on horseback, the Ger on the move around them all.

"I've never seen so much of him covered up," Hachin admitted.

"That's easy to believe," Choeten put in. She was wearing a splendid purple silk dress with a golden chain around her neck. The prim Hun wife's face had fortunately held without incident. Hachin was glad; she could live with her scar, but that didn't mean she wanted everyone to have to deal with something like it.

Putting two fingers to her lips she whistled, her one-eyed mare trotting through the moving tribe, snapping at anything that got too close or didn't get out of the way fast enough. It seemed the horse was still quite sore about its missing eye. Choeten had suggested renaming her Oyunbileg.

The mare came alongside the wagon, letting her climb into the saddle. Min needed no urging, quickly moving to the outskirts of the migrating Ger.

Clearing the walking slaves, riding Huns, and the wagons, they ascended a small hill. She looked back to where they had buried the battle dead. An improvised shrine of some sort had been erected for the loyalists. Bataar said a shaman would have to complete the proper rites and other ceremonies for the ground.

Unegan and the others lay nearby, but not so close as to be confused. She could imagine in a decade's time their resting place would be lost to the eyes of men.

Brushing her scar lightly, she thought about everyone she had buried, and was now leaving behind. That other life she had left buried behind there too, the only things left to tie her there was Mushu, banished to bugging Oyunbileg for the moment, and her father's sword, finally back at her belt.

There were regrets, of course, ties she wished didn't have to be broken. But she couldn't quite regret her decisions despite the pain.

Turning her back on the dead, Hachin set her mount to gallop, heading for the front of the Ger. Two friends, one old, the other new, were waiting there, she knew. As was the husband she had chosen despite everything.

It was time to help them lead these people under this vast sky, without a wall in sight.

_The End_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_**And done! Wow, I mean wow. That is the first epic length story I have finished on this site. And my goal was to finish it before January 1st 2014, which it seems I succeeded at. And thanks to you, my reviewers, this story currently tops the Mulan category in reviews. Sadly, the former top pick was deleted, but that doesn't mean you all are any less than awesome.**_

_Before I say anything more, a word from the writer without whom this story would not exist:_

**A Note From Jazzqueen:**

Working on this story with Eduard Kassel has been a fun experience for me. As Eduard Kassel said in the first chapter, this story originally came to be from my deleted story "Mulan Of The Ger". I first got the idea of this concept because I noticed there were actually not that many AUs about what if the Huns captured Mulan in the pass and brought her back to their homeland. Since no one else was writing that kind of story, I decided why not do it myself?

Even though it gained some popularity, I later realized I was losing interest in continuing it. However, Kassel, who didn't want this concept to go to waste, offered to make his own take on it. After deleting "Mulan of the Ger", I started collaborating with him by helping him find information about how the Huns lived, their belief systems, and customs, to give a sort of realism to them. I also helped him in some of the decision-making concerning some scenes as well.

I think the most fun about this was the world building and creating new characters that really could have been a part of the movie's canon. In creating "Hachin" we had to make a more adult world than what was seen in the film. However, the movie's tone still remained in that things could switch from being funny in one scene to being sober in another. The new characters help to put a complex layer on the Huns, moving them from just being savage raiders to complex people who are just like any other human being on this planet.

The character that I believe was expanded the most in this story was Shan-Yu (Bataar). As one of Disney's darkest villains, there was a need to stay true to his original character but at the same time show that there is more to this guy than the movie showed. Giving him the name Bataar was the first step in turning him from a force of destruction to a fallen figure that has become the monster we see in the movie.

Another character that became a favorite of mine is Gaitan, who quickly won me over with being the most lighthearted of the Inner Huns. I really loved that we made him into a Casanova type of character who really steals the scenery every time he is in it or mentioned.

The new character that I had the most interest working on is actually Unegan, who I actually believe would be a great canon Disney villain, and maybe even more so than his own half-brother. As much as you have grown to hate Unegan, something in me always kept me interested in that sly fox of a man. As a villain, Unegan is quite different from Bataar because he is the type of villain that dresses himself up as some civilized high member while on the inside is rotten to the core and a spoiled man-child that never grew up. However, one must pity him because of the fact in the end he surrounded himself with such shallow materialistic stuff that in the end no one would ever miss him.

Overall, the story actually retains a lot of themes that were in the original movie, showing how Mulan could truly become herself a different way. Everything that the Chinese culture found strange about her is celebrated in the Hun society. The Huns she once sees as enemies, Mulan now embraces as her adopted people. Mulan's transition to Hachin shows her coming to terms with the fact that she finally found a place where she will be appreciated for who she is. In essence, the story "Hachin" could be a variation of the end of the Hero's Journey, where instead of just going back to China she makes the steppes her new home. A place where her spirit will not be contained by walls or be forced to dress up for the rigid standards of others and become the woman she wants to be. Hachin is basically an alternate way Mulan could have finally come to terms with herself.

**XXX**

_Thank you Jazzqueen!_

_Now as for some questions you probably have:_

_What was the point of Fa Zhu's part if he just ended up never reaching Mulan? The journey, I would say. He and Khan were originally meant to play no part beyond Shang's arrival scene at the Fa household._

_But I realized those two would not sit idly by. So they got their journey, though it ended in failure. But it wasn't just to address them without altering plans; it played into a theme of deconstruction._

_Jazzqueen and I did a lot of deconstruction with this story. Particularly with villains, as Jazzqueen touched on earlier. But more than that. In the case of Fa Zhu and Khan, it is the fact of failure and how to deal with it. Stories where everything works out in the end, I think, send a bad message. They do not prepare people to cope with disappointment and failure. The times where it just doesn't work out._

_It's not cynical to show that you can get up from falling, and it's not being upbeat to claim they will never fall._

_And then there is romance. Bataar and Mulan I would not say are in love by the end of the story. There isn't some divine destiny of true love here. What they are growing is based on mutual respect and a common interest. Will it become a deep and passionate love? *Shrugs* Maybe they will end up being basically close friends married with children essentially?_

_And finally, the question I am sure you are all hoping I will answer._

_The sequel, "Dragon & Horse", coming 2014. It will be set seventeen years after this story with the royal Hun children being major characters even as old favorites return and meet again. In the meantime, I have loose plans for a prequel oneshot, "Battle of the Mists" and an interlude three-shot, "Seasons Turning". The three-shot will deal with the births of Mulan's children with glimpses into the royal family life, but also check in with Shang and Chien Po._

_When in 2014 will depend on both school and progress on my other projects._

_Thank you all for reading, God bless._


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